After Class
by Team Damon
Summary: She's a clumsy but intelligent student who's a little late getting her degree, and he's a young but grumpy professor with a past he's doing his best to move on from. Neither of them expected college to be quite this interesting, but nothing ever goes exactly according to plan. Modern day college AU, Bucky/OC. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: SO. Instead of writing the next chapter of LAD (which I promise I am going to buckle down and get to very, very soon), I have kind of been writing this enormous three-part AU fic for the last week instead. In my defense, this story has been rattling around in my brain for the last like six months or something ridiculous like that, and although I initially thought it was silly and therefore tried to ignore it... yeah, I totally gave in and wrote the crap out of it lol. So, here we have yet another little side story AU thingy involving Bucky and my OC Summer, and I realize that at this point I have written this couple to death but... they're fun and I can't help it, and you lovely readers seem to like them, so why not? :) So, as I said before, this will have three very long parts and then an epilogue. I have 95% of the main story done already, so it'll all be posted fairly quickly, depending on how many of you like it and how impatient I am lol. I'm going to get back to my usual LAD-writing schedule now, so no worries about that, and I hope that this giant little three-shot thing makes up for missing a week of that story :D Thanks for reading, and my undying thanks to midnightwings96 for always being just the best and helping turn my half-witted ideas into actual writeable things :D Review pretty please and let me know what you all think!**

* * *

Of all the days Summer could have picked to uncharacteristically run late, she picked a hell of a bad one to wake up a full hour later than she had intended to.

The night before, she had excitedly set her phone alarm and carefully laid out her outfit for the next day, which was something that she never did but, considering how big of a day the next one was, it seemed like the thing to do. But thanks to her phone's suspiciously fickle alarm, rather than peacefully prepare for the day ahead, she found herself rampaging through her tiny bedroom chanting a panicked mantra of "Frick, frick, frick, frick, _frick_!"

After managing to actually _lose_ the outfit she'd planned on wearing in the process of freaking out, she simply gave up and threw on the most comfortable dress she owned and a pair of flats that wouldn't kill her feet. Then she ate a barely passable breakfast in her kitchen in record time, and with just enough time left to get her books and other supplies ready, she dashed out the door and into her truck.

Then, when she got stuck in morning rush hour traffic almost immediately after getting on the interstate, she dropped her head against the steering wheel and cursed the fact that she was no longer in her old small town. This was the city, and a pretty big one at that, and she hated it already.

Then a car behind her honked, and she looked up to find traffic moving again and leaving her in the dust. " _Frick_ frick frick!"

Thankfully, however, she showed up to her destination with _just_ enough time to spare. After finding somewhere to park, nearly an ordeal all its own, she grabbed her things and power-walked straight into one of the sprawling, intimidating, _expensive_ buildings that would be more or less her home for at least the next two years.

"Yay," she muttered under her breath, eyeing the other students making their way inside and already feeling slightly out of place as she fell into step with them.

Reaching into her bag and grabbing her schedule, she double-checked it for the hundredth time just to make _sure_ that she was heading to the right class first. Having been anxious enough in advance to pay extra close attention to where everything was during orientation, she thankfully knew exactly where she was going, and she got there with exactly three minutes left on the clock.

Summer wasted no time in letting herself get all wide-eyed at how much bigger and more crowded everything was compared to what she was used to, focusing instead on finding the emptiest section of seats that she could spot. Once she found one that was isolated enough for her liking, towards the very back of the lecture hall, she made a beeline for it and sighed in relief the minute she was seated.

But she didn't have time to even grab her pen out of her bag before two fellow students suddenly appeared out of nowhere and sat on either side of her. Summer looked up and eyed the girl on her left, dark-haired and wearing a gray hat over her long dark hair, then the man on her left, clearly foreign and rather handsome and flashing her a bright smile as if they were already friends. She smiled back, then looked down and let out an already-tired breath.

It wasn't that she was antisocial. She just didn't know why these two had picked her little corner out of all the other ones available.

"Okay," the girl on her right said, slapping her textbook down and announcing, "I am ready to begin my torture." She then glanced at Summer and said, "I'm Darcy, by the way."

"Summer," she smiled back.

"That's Esteban," Darcy gestured to the man on Summer's left, who looked up and winked with a distinctly sassy flair. "Very Spanish, very hot and very gay. Don't bother trying to convince him to go straight for a night, already tried."

"Your efforts were appreciated," he replied without missing a beat.

"Um... okay," Summer smiled, deciding that maybe these two weren't so bad after all. "Do you guys always sit uncomfortably close to new students or is it just my lucky day?"

Esteban laughed and replied, "Oh, no, we're in this section for the same reason you are."

"... Because it was empty?" Summer guessed dumbly.

"Oh, so you like to play innocent," Darcy grinned. "It's okay, you can admit that you chose the seat with the best view of Professor Hottie McGrumpypants."

Now Summer was well and truly lost. "Um..."

Darcy looked at her and then blinked, shaking her head. "Wait. Are you a freshmen?"

"Well, not exactly," she explained, immediately launching into a ramble. "I'm 24. I just transferred here after a couple years at a community college, because I had some family issues to take care of after high school, so technically I've gotten a lot done already and -"

"Okay, well, either way, that means you have no idea what you're in for."

"No idea," Esteban nodded. "Poor girl."

Summer looked at them both in sudden concern. "... No idea about what?"

Darcy took a deep breath, clearly enjoying filling in a new and unsuspecting student on the apparent hell they were about to experience together. "Okay, so, the professor - who is four minutes late to his own class, by the way - is this famously angry and very irritable but ridiculously hot guy who's like only thirty four years old -"

"Thirty two," Esteban corrected her.

"Right, thirty two, and like I said, he's like gorgeous -"

"Like James Dean but angrier," Esteban said dreamily.

"Basically," Darcy agreed, "and everybody hates this class."

Summer's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because he's kind of a dick," Darcy replied. "He kicked my friend Ian out of this very class last semester and cussed him out in Russian until he left."

"So he's... angry and mean but... young and... hot?" Summer surmised.

"Pretty much," Darcy nodded. "And he's ex-Army. We've heard a lot about him and seen him walking around but this is our first time experiencing it ourselves. If he would actually get here and start the class."

"What do you want to bet he's _having_ _breakfast_ with the scary psych professor?" Esteban said suggestively, using finger quotes.

"... _Who_?" Summer asked helplessly, but when Darcy began to answer, the door opened and every student present immediately fell completely silent. Apparently, the professor really did have a reputation.

Unable to hold back her curiosity, Summer cast her eyes towards the doorway and wondered if this guy was really all Darcy had cracked him up to be. Being former military, she imagined a big, bulky guy with a buzzcut walking in with a strict, non-blinking look on his stoic face, but her mental picture ended up being rather far off.

Instead, in walked a man who lived up entirely to Darcy's descriptions and exceeded them. He was tall but not overly so, dark hair short and brushed back on his head, and blue eyes that were clear and striking even behind his black-rimmed glasses and from as far away as Summer was. He was dressed in a gray suit and blue tie, but as he walked in and surveyed the still-silent students with a distinct air of being unimpressed - and, she couldn't help but notice, a very strong jawline - he shed the jacket and dropped it on the chair behind his desk. She wondered why he bothered to wear it at all, and if it was wrong for her to be totally okay with the idea of him just casually taking more off.

Then his eyes moved her way, and she realized that she was staring at him quite openly and chewing on the back of her pen. She looked away the very second their eyes met and dropped the pen, which proceeded to clatter noisily to the floor, and she quickly leaned down to pick it up as her face burst into an instant blush.

By the time she straightened up, she had hoped that he was looking somewhere else, but he wasn't. She stared down at her hands, avoiding his intimidating gaze and hoping to God that he didn't automatically, and inexplicably, hate her now.

 _Stupid pen dropping idiot_ , she mentally cursed. Then Darcy gave her the thumbs up and mouthed _smooth_ , and Summer groaned silently and refused to look up again.

At least until he spoke.

"Morning," he said simply, and Summer's eyes darted back up all on their own. He was looking elsewhere now, at all the other students, and she felt safe enough to stare at him again, at least for another moment or two. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting."

Darcy and Esteban leaned closer to Summer, though it was so they could talk to each other rather than her. "He doesn't look that angry today," Darcy whispered.

"He looks _delicious_ today," Esteban replied.

"He totally knows. Why else would he walk in and stare at us while he took his jacket off?"

"I don't know," Esteban replied with a sigh, "but I'm not complaining."

They then shut up and backed up some, to Summer's relief, when the professor looked their way again. He leaned back against his desk, hands lightly gripping the edge of it behind him, and he said in a slight monotone that gave away how often he had to give this speech, "My name is James Barnes. You can all call me 'Professor'. If anybody has a question, now's the time to ask it."

Short and to the point, but not exactly unkind, Summer noted. He didn't seem all that scary yet. She looked around at the other students, and the first to ask a question was a girl near the front of the class.

"What languages do you speak?" came the slightly-terrified sounding voice, and Summer looked back at the professor to hear his answer.

"Besides English, German, Russian, and Arabic."

Again, short and sweet. Maybe he just wasn't overly talky, and that's why everybody thought he was constantly angry?

Next he pointed at a guy in one of the middle rows, who asked, "Is it true that you were in the Army?"

Even from where Summer sat, she could see the very subtle but instant tightening of his jaw, the immediate tensing that came with the question. He kept his expression neutral and replied, "Yeah. Anything else?"

"How'd you end up _here_?" the guy asked with a slight laugh.

"I left the Army," the professor answered simply, though his annoyance was starting to show on his face. "Anything _else_?"

"Well... I mean, you said you speak Arabic, so doesn't it bother you? Teaching the language those bastards over there speak?"

The entire room fell silent once again, so eerily quiet that if Summer had dropped her pen again, it might have sounded like drum banging.

"What's your name?" the professor asked calmly, pushing off of the desk and stepping closer towards the students.

"Mike," the guy replied. "Mike Stewart."

He nodded, then said, "Well, to answer your question, _Mike_ , no, it doesn't bother me, because _those bastards,_ as you call them, are people. Some are good, some are bad. No different from us."

Summer noticed how his right hand tugged at his left sleeve as he said this, almost like a nervous habit, and he continued to do this as the Mike kid continued to dig his own grave.

"Yeah, but like... see, my cousin served in Iraq, and he said they're all ignorant, like, cavemen and that we wasted our time over there."

Summer cringed, pretty sure that if this teacher was as scary as Darcy and Esteban claimed, she was about to witness the proof. Still fiddling with his sleeve, he nodded and then turned suddenly narrowed eyes on Mike. "Well, nobody likes to waste their time, so why don't you stop wasting mine and get out of my class."

Summer's widening eyes, and those of every other student, went to Mike, who sat there and stared dumbly rather than either try to argue or just obey.

"Get out," the professor repeated, "and come back when you've learned some damn respect."

The entire class then watched as the kid scrambled up to his feet and grabbed his books before bolting for the door. Meanwhile, the professor merely turned his back and strolled behind his desk, the Q&A portion of the class apparently over.

Summer didn't realize that she was actually smiling a little until Darcy and Esteban leaned back in to start whispering to each other again.

"Okay, that kid totally had it coming," Darcy said.

"That was _Mike_ Mike, the one who called me a 'queen' last semester. As if that's a bad thing or something."

"Oh my God, you're right! Ugh, that kid just gets worse and worse."

Summer was just about to ask these highly entertaining but mildly annoying people at her side to please quiet down for her sake, but a far more intimidating voice from the desk below beat her to it.

"Anyone who can't shut up and focus can get out now too."

Summer froze and gulped when she looked up and realized that he was looking at _her_ as he said this, as if it had been her whispering all this time. Darcy and Esteban leaned back again, nodding and suppressing grins as they shut up and obediently looked down at their textbooks. Summer's face was burning again, but thankfully his gaze didn't stay on her long this time before he moved on.

She calmed down once he started talking again, this time starting the real class. Scanning the faces before him, he asked, "How many of you are taking an introductory Linguistics class because you actually want to, not because you have to?"

Darcy's hand went up, as did a sizable minority of the class. Summer's was the last to go up, hoping she'd draw less attention to herself that way, and she put it down as quickly as possible.

He nodded. "Then you probably know I'm not here to teach you specific languages. I'm here to teach you how language itself works, or at least get you started on that."

Summer tried to listen carefully as he went on, but Darcy and Esteban were talking _again_ , despite the scolding they'd gotten only a moment before.

"He just needs to get laid," Darcy whispered.

"I volunteer for this," Esteban whispered back. "I will, how do you Americans say, take one for the team."

Summer started chewing on her pen again, unable to focus on a damn thing, and it wasn't even because of the two people arguing quietly over who would be better qualified to relieve the teacher of his apparent stress. It was mainly due to the casual, knowledgable way that said teacher spoke of language and its various basic pillars while he undid the blue tie around his neck and then tossed it on top of his jacket. Summer's eyes were glued to his fingers as he unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt, Darcy helpfully voicing her thoughts so she didn't have to.

"What _is_ this? Is he actually stripping? Holy shit, I wasn't prepared for this."

Neither was Summer. She was only just starting her first class at university, but she felt a _long_ way from home now and entirely too distracted for her own good.

"Are all the professors this hot?" Summer whispered to Darcy, unable to keep the question to herself. "Because if they are, I'm in trouble."

"Just wait till you see one of the history teachers," she whispered back with a grin. "And the scary psych professor Esteban was talking about. What are your other classes?"

"Psych 101," Summer replied. "U.S. History, 1865 to today, and -"

Darcy choked on nothing. "I'm in the same psych class. I took the same history class last semester, and yeah, that professor is _his_ best friend," she gestured to their current teacher. "We call him Captain America."

" _Why_?"

"Oh, you'll see," Darcy assured her. "Now hush before we get kicked out next."

Summer groaned silently but didn't say another word for the rest of the class, too busy wondering what the hell kind of college this even was and replaying the tie-removal in her head more than was acceptable even to her, chewing her poor pen all the while.

She had the feeling it was the first of many pens that would meet an untimely demise, and she blamed the professor she'd be seeing a whole lot more of in the foreseeable future.

* * *

After narrowly surviving her first full-fledged university class and scurrying out of it with all the dignity of a bewildered mouse when it was over, Summer had a short break and then was soon on her way to tackle her next class, which was U.S. history. She happened to run into a now-familiar face just outside of the lecture hall, and Esteban was all too happy to invite her to sit next to him and a few of his other friends as she experienced the exact polar opposite of the previous class.

Unlike the undeniably pretty but grumpy Professor Barnes, the man that walked in five minutes _early_ into the class was blonde, cheerful, and a veritable ray of sunshine as he looked out among his pupils and smiled like he was genuinely happy to see them.

"Behold," Esteban leaned over and whispered, "Captain America himself."

Well, he _did_ have a little American flag on his desk.

The two class experiences were a night and day difference, and even the hall was brighter thanks to the different positioning and better sunlight that filtered inside. Professor Steve Rogers - or "Professor Steve" as he happily instructed the class to call him - was young and tall and _huge_ and dressed kind of like an old man, and he was even easier to spot as being former military in the way that he spoke and carried himself. He was friendly but strict, and Summer got the feeling that he _could_ be terrifying if he wanted to be.

He was also ridiculously pretty himself, and Summer wondered how anyone ever focused enough to actually get any learning done with all of these weirdly attractive teachers present. But for as young and easy on the eyes as they were, they seemed oddly wise beyond their years and undoubtedly qualified to be there.

And "Professor Steve" was nice enough to go easy on the class during their first week, unlike his purported best friend over in Linguistics, who had assigned an essay due by the next week, to the chagrin of everyone. Summer left history feeling a bit less scattered and slightly more comfortable, but her first day wasn't quite over yet. After lunch and a break almost long enough to make her crave a nap, Summer made the trek to her final class of the day, which she knew was taught by a woman and therefore would surely be less... distracting... than the others.

And so, and freshly charged on a new truckload of caffeine and relieved that the day was almost over, Summer rounded the last corner before reaching her destination, and as she made her way to the correct door, she spotted none other than "Hottie McGrumpypants" himself talking to a petite redhead a short distance up ahead. They were talking amongst themselves and standing close to each other, the woman showing him something on her phone that he apparently found amusing enough to smile at. Summer only realized that she was staring - again - when she was almost to the door, and the professor glanced up and caught her staring. She suppressed a squeak of terror and immediately looked away, barreling through the door and breathing only once she was safe again, definitely _not_ taking note of how different he looked when he actually smiled.

She was scoping where to sit when she noticed the girl from the first class, Darcy, waving her up to where she sat. Finding it hilarious that she kept ending up next to these same people, she accepted the invitation and sat down with a heavy sigh once she made her way there.

"Long first day?" Darcy asked knowingly.

"Yeah, but I just drank twenty four ounces of coffee and I'm good," Summer smiled. "I met 'Captain America'."

"Isn't he great?" Darcy enthused. "I miss that class. Everybody loves him. And he's cute, too."

"I know, I don't get it," Summer replied, digging out a fairly gigantic psychology textbook out of her bag and hauling it down to open in front of her. "Like, I'm trying to scope out the guys here in between actually listening and paying attention, but the _professors_ are distracting me. This place is weird."

"Well, not all the professors are hot," Darcy replied. "You'll eventually get the ones old enough to be your grandpa who aren't distracting at _all_. Oh, and I'll help you with the guy thing, too. There's a lot of idiots here."

Summer grimaced a little and then quieted down as the door opened, the class officially starting with the entrance of the professor, who ended up being the very same petite redhead that Summer had spotted outside of the hall only moments earlier.

Then she connected the dots. Esteban's comments about " _breakfast_ with the scary psych professor", plus the somewhat cozy way the two teachers had looked outside in the hallway. It made sense now, especially considering how equally attractive this woman was.

She leaned over and whispered, "So her and Professor Barnes are a thing?"

"Seems that way sometimes," Darcy whispered back, "but I doubt he'd be so angry all the time if he was regularly banging _that_."

Darcy had a point. Summer then watched and listened with full interest as the small but clearly very self-possessed and confident woman introduced herself to the class as Natasha Romanoff, originally from Russia but flawlessly accent-less and seemingly pretty nice in her opening remarks. She also gave the students some time to ask her any questions they had, and Summer didn't detect an ounce of scariness until the third question.

"I know that psych is required for every single degree, but," a girl down near the front said, "I just don't really see why. I mean, I'm not going to be a psychologist or work in the medical field at all, so how am I going to use what I'm learning here in my every day life?"

"That's actually a very good question," the professor acknowledged, straightening up from where she had been leaning against her desk. "I can assure you that no matter what your major is or what your career will be, you can use the information you'll learn here fairly often. Psychology isn't just someone sitting on a couch telling you about how they grew up. It's learning how the mind works, why people do what they do, learning how to accurately read them. There are very few careers in existence where this _isn't_ a useful skill. And it's good to have for every day life, too. Imagine how much easier first dates would be if you know which questions you should _really_ ask. Might save yourself a lot of time and trouble." There was a handful of chuckles, and then she smiled and said, "I'll demonstrate."

Summer then watched as she signaled to the single most overtly frat-boy type male student present to come down, and the guy glanced at a friend and grinned before sharing a high five and getting up.

"Who's that?" Summer whispered, but Darcy merely shrugged.

"He's new, I don't know," Darcy replied as the young man unknowingly walked to his doom.

After sitting down in a seat that the still-smiling professor had so nicely provided him, the guy smiled and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as she nonchalantly strolled around him and asked lightly, "What's your name?"

"Well, my friends call me Johnny," he grinned, and Summer rolled her eyes.

"All right, Johnny. Where are you from?"

"Lived here my whole life," he replied. "My dad and my granddad both graduated from here."

"Oh, a legacy," the professor smiled. "And do you like it here so far?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "Gonna join the same frat they were in and get the full college experience."

"Beer kegs and girls?" she asked with a knowing grin.

He chuckled and shrugged, looking down. "Well, yeah, you know how it is. Just like high school, only legal now, and hotter girls."

"Oh, he's a winner," Darcy muttered as a few of the guys in the class laughed their agreements. Summer was starting to suspect that college wasn't going to be all that different from high school, if this was what most of the guys were like.

"Legal?" The professor asked, stopping in front of him and raising an eyebrow. "So you're at least 21. Why start college so late?"

His grin fell and he shrugged. "Aw, you know. Just took some time off, worked a little bit, figured out what I wanted to do with my life."

She nodded thoughtfully. "And what is your major?"

"Accounting."

"Just like your dad?" she guessed, and he nodded. "Hm. Well, I'm sure he'll be disappointed when you drop out before the year is over."

Johnny paused and stared at her in confusion, then smiled and asked, "What?"

"Your primary concern is your own appearance," she pointed out, resuming her slow, intimidating walk around him. "Not just in the physical sense, though that plays a role. But you're mostly concerned with how others perceive you. The only thing in life that you're truly committed to is your own ego."

"But -"

"You told me, your professor, to call you what your friends call you," she pointed out, ignoring his interruption. "But as young and pretty as I am, I am _not_ your friend, and I never will be. I'm sure you've got some degree of charm somewhere, Jonathan - yes, I know your real name - but your charm means nothing to me, and it won't mean anything to the girls you try to chase because you think they're playing hard to get when in reality, they simply aren't interested."

The kid was silent now, staring dumbly as she came to a halt in front of him. "You were pressured into choosing a major you're not interested in by a father who would only pay for college if you attended it on his terms. You want to make him proud, I'm sure, and maybe you will, but you won't be happy. It might seem like a fair trade off now, but it won't in twenty years when you're miserable and trapped in a life you never would have chosen for yourself. Tell me, what _are_ you interested in?"

He opened his mouth but said nothing, and upon dropping her eyes down to his sneakers and carefully taking note of them, she looked up and said, "Those are some cool shoes. I haven't those in the stores. Who designed them?"

"I... me," he muttered.

She smiled. "So you like art. That's good. And judging by the shoes and the the amount of detail in the design, you're good at it, aren't you?" He nodded, and she added, "Your father was right when he undoubtedly said accounting is much more practical than art. But practical isn't always better, is it? And besides, generally speaking, girls like the sensitive artist types a lot more than the idiot frat boys. So there's always _that_."

As the guy continued to gape, she wrapped up her analysis. "If you want others to like you, _you_ have to like you first. That means being honest and showing respect. Otherwise, all anyone will ever see when they look at you is a miserable coward who let someone else make his choices for him because it was easier. It's your decision. Now, back to your seat, please."

Eyes wide and throughly flabbergasted, Johnny stood up and trudged back to his seat, likely in the midst of an existential crisis of some sort after having been read like a book from just the molecule of information he'd given the professor. The other men in the class stared, likely caught between terror at being in the presence of such a woman and pure, unbridled lust, because _well_ , who could blame them.

"Holy crap," Summer whispered. "What is she, a psychic?"

"That's why everyone's scared of her," Darcy whispered back. "She can tell your entire life story based on what you had for breakfast. And look super hot doing it."

"Now, unless anyone else has any questions," the professor smiled, and Darcy's hand shot up.

"Yeah, can I bring you with me the next time I get a date, because _holy crap_?"

She laughed. "Well, pay attention to this class, and you won't need my help."

Summer sighed and leaned her chin on her hand. What a glorious, albeit terrifying, creature. Where did this place even _find_ their professors?

* * *

The next few weeks went by in a blur caused by the challenges of getting adjusted to a brand new and horribly busy schedule, but Summer managed to stay afloat and eventually get more comfortable in her new classes. When she wasn't at school, she was either working her new part time job at a library in town, doing homework, or sleeping, though the last thing seemed to be more of an afterthought as time went on. But she didn't dislike any of it, and in fact, it was a nice change to constantly be busy and occupied after what the previous years had been like.

She met new people every week and found new friends in Darcy and Esteban, who were very good at drawing her out of her shell and making her feel at ease despite all the new changes in her life. They were funny and way more outgoing than she had a hope of being in such a big, new place, and they even made it a point to drag her out of her apartment on the rare days she had all to herself. She would have been content to sit at home watching Netflix in between stuffing her face and taking naps, but according to them, she needed to get "out there".

Over two weeks following the start of class, it was on one of those precious few days off that Summer found herself driving her two new friends to a place she hadn't been to in a rather long time - a gym. She hoped that the workout gear stuffed in her backpack still fit after she had parked and was following Darcy inside the place, unable to help but ask, "Why am I here again?"

"Because Esteban drags me here every week and now I get to drag you," Darcy stated simply.

"It's true," he added, jumping in front of them to open the front door.

"But what even is 'Zumba'?" Summer asked, slightly afraid of the answer as she stepped inside after Darcy.

"It's super fun," Darcy replied. "Don't even worry about it."

"If you say so," Summer shrugged, looking around the relatively large gym and getting all of a minute to do so before Esteban shoved a guest pass into her hand and then sent her off with Darcy to change in the girl's locker room.

It was as Summer stuffed herself into her old and rather tight workout clothes that she realized that yes, her body had indeed changed a bit over the last few years, and that she sort of looked like she'd borrowed her niece's clothes.

"Okay, are you ready now because... oh my God, Summer," Darcy half-exclaimed after throwing up her hair in a ponytail and glancing at her friend. "Are you wearing stuff from when you were like twelve?!"

"... About twenty, actually," Summer shrugged uneasily, tugging on the fitness tank top that had a built-in bra barely keeping her _assets_ under wraps. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Um, bad? No, not exactly the word I'd use," Darcy replied. "You know, I actually had no idea you had such giant boobs under that conservative stuff you wear to school."

Summer shrugged. "I mean, I just try to be comfortable..."

"Mhm. Whatever. I'm taking you shopping later."

Summer gave her a look. "Oh God, please no. I like my clothes, and I'm not big on showing... things... off, so -"

"Dude, I'm not gonna dress you up like a slut. I'm just saying, you're hot and you should embrace it, that's all. Now I'm gonna go pee, and I'll meet you back outside with Esteban."

"Okay," Summer nodded, working on wrangling her own long dark hair into something manageable on top of her head after Darcy left. She then spent entirely too long trying to adjust her clothes and wondering if the yoga pants she had on looked as ridiculous as her top did before deciding that it really didn't matter and leaving the locker room. Besides, it was a gym. Nobody ever went to the gym dressed to impress someone, or at least normal people didn't.

She headed down the short hallway back towards the front of the gym, and as she again fiddled with her tank top and pulled at it to try to stretch it out, she took a wrong turn and ended up in an entirely different part of the gym. She kept walking, however, looking up at the various doors that she passed, figuring she'd eventually end up back where she began. It was just a gym, after all, and she was pretty sure that even she couldn't get lost in one.

Most of the rooms that she passed were empty, probably normally used for classes or private sessions or who knew what else, but the very last room she happened upon before taking another turn was occupied and the door was slightly open. It was out of mild and very natural curiosity that she threw a halfhearted glance into the room as she passed, but it was for another reason entirely that she stopped, took a step back, and peered into the room for a second time, doing her best to make sure that she wouldn't be seen.

At first, she had thought that she must have been mistaken, but she quickly realized that no, her initial suspicion had been very right. The two men trading punches and grunting with the force of the jabs were none other than two of her professors, and _of course_ , they were the hot ones. That was just how the universe worked now, apparently.

But while she could have stared at them both and been equally impressed by what she saw, her eyes focused on only one of them for the approximately six seconds she spent watching. It was her Linguistics teacher that she was briefly transfixed by, messy-haired and sweaty and clad in a white tank top that clung tightly to his body as it moved with the kind of ease and precision that only came with years of experience. Even more interesting than _that_ , though, was his left arm.

She'd long noticed his habit of sleeve-tugging on that arm, but she had never wondered why he did it. Now she knew why, after catching a glimpse of the many scars and what looked like pretty severe old burn marks that covered most of what she could see of the limb, all the way up to his shoulder. The scars told a story that shocked her with how utterly horrific it must have been, and after realizing that she was not meant to see that and should not be staring at _any_ part of him, she tore her eyes away and forced herself to keep walking. But the glimpse of that arm was burned into her memory already, and after a few moments of wondering, she decided that she didn't _want_ to know how it got that way, which was a good thing, because she likely never _would_ know.

After finding her way back and catching up with her friends, who were warming up and immediately told her to do the same, she started stretching and couldn't help but let her mind drift off. She kept what, or _whom_ , she had seen to herself, and thought not of the arm or the scars but the entire man, and what he had looked like and... _sounded_ like... in that room.

It was entirely unproductive and pointless, and she knew that, but she was only human, and he _was_ pretty delicious, as Esteban liked to say. He could be scary and he often had an intense look in his eye even as he spoke of languages, _in_ different languages which was another problem all of its own, but she found him far more interesting than she did frightening. Aside from when he'd ask her for an answer to a question, of course, which was when sheer terror would overcome her and she would squeak something back that was usually right but still embarrassing due to how she _knew_ she looked and sounded when giving the answer.

She could only imagine how much harder it would be _now_ to cough up the right answers, now that she would forever be picturing him sweaty in a tank top and sparring with his best friend as he asked her questions in class. How very doomed she was.

* * *

"Feel better now?" Steve asked, taking a long drink from a water bottle and watching his friend unwrap his hands and take a deep breath.

"Little bit," Bucky replied, glancing at Steve and rolling his eyes. He smiled though, always unable to keep a straight face for very long when it came to Steve.

"Yeah, well, gotta do my part in making sure you don't take out all that anger on your poor students," Steve joked, patting his shoulder as he walked by.

"But they're the reason I'm pissed off half the time," Bucky pointed out, following Steve out of the room.

"Hey, they're not all so bad," Steve replied as they walked down the hallway. "We've got some of the same students, so I know you've got at _least_ a few good ones."

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, but the good ones are always the quiet ones. The ones that like to talk and ask a million questions are the ones that make me want to punch someone."

Steve chuckled. "Well, still better than our last jobs, that's for sure."

"Yeah." Bucky couldn't argue with that. "Pays better, too."

"Pays a _lot_ better," Steve agreed, leading them into the men's locker room. "In fact, I bet you could even afford now to go out on one of those dates Nat keeps trying to set you up on."

Bucky grimaced, going about finding and changing his clothes on autopilot, "I swear if I get one more text from some girl she talked into asking me out..."

"You say that like its a bad problem to have," Steve laughed quietly. "You should go for it. What's the worst that could happen?"

Bucky gave him the side-eye and replied, "The girl could actually like me."

Steve's eyes widened sarcastically. "God forbid that ever happens."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged, "I just... don't want to date. It's miserable, the forced small talk and then the inevitable 'oh, you were in the Army, why did you leave?' question."

Steve nodded understandingly to that, then looked away for a moment as they both finished changing before adding, "Well, you know, if it helps, Nat says she also knows some girls who wouldn't be all that interested in... talking, if you know what I mean." When all that got him was another glare, Steve added, "I'm just putting it out there. Might help with your... you know... problem."

"And I'm leaving now," Bucky replied evenly, turning and heading back the way they came.

Steve followed him. "I'm sorry, I just -"

"It's fine, I get it," Bucky replied, shrugging his friend off. "I just get sick of talking about it."

"Fair enough. Just trying to help."

As they made their way towards the front of the gym, past the front desk and towards the door, Bucky paused and replied, "Sometimes you help a little too much, Steve."

"Also fair enough," Steve grinned. Then he paused and said, "Oh, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

Bucky nodded, thoughts drifting along with his gaze as Steve left him alone for a few moments. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't want to date, or when he said that doing so was miserable, because it truly was. Getting close to someone after... well, _after_ , wasn't just harder than it had been before. It was damn near impossible, and it also happened to usually be the absolute last thing on his mind. He didn't feel as if he had any dire need for female company, and the problem that Steve had referred to was something he usually opted to simply pretend didn't exist, so as far as he was concerned, all of it was a non-issue.

As he contemplated these things, his eyes eventually drifted over towards the class about to start behind a glass wall not too far away. Maybe Steve had left him there on purpose, so he could get an eyeful of mostly women in tight clothing and perhaps be persuaded into believing that he really did need to let off some steam with one. Bucky rolled his eyes, because if that was the case, Steve needed to try a little harder.

But he _did_ look, and one girl in particular _did_ catch his eye. She was towards the back of the room and therefore closer to where he was than the others, moderately tall and brunette, with the sort of shape that he'd always liked in the past. He couldn't see her face as she bent down, keeping her legs straight as she stretched, then straightening up and leaning one hand on the wall as she lifted up one leg and held it as high as she could without bending it. She got it pretty high, then dropped it back down as if she'd already worn herself out, and he _almost_ cracked a tiny smile in amusement.

Then she shifted to the side a little, but not enough for him to see her face as she leaned back and stretched her arms behind her. It did, however, allow him to see how utterly _bursting_ she was in her top, and it was more than a little eye-catching. After all, he was only human.

But then she straightened up and turned around, and he saw her face and recognized her in an instant. Brows furrowing and eyes tearing away so fast that his corneas nearly imploded, he turned around so she couldn't spot him and figure out who _he_ was and make this even worse than it already was. It just figured that the one girl of all the others present, he'd pick one of his own _students_ to ogle. It was just the kind of luck that he was used to.

Steve soon caught back up with him, and upon noticing the look of mild distress on his face as he stared resolutely out the window and not at _her_ , Steve asked, "Hey, something wrong?"

"Nope," Bucky muttered, immediately heading for the door, forcing himself to not give in to the slight urge to steal one more look, which was certainly _not_ okay by anyone's standards, let alone his.

Now he just had to hope that every time he called on her for an answer in class, he wouldn't think of how high she could stretch her leg or what she looked like in clothes that were the best kind of too small. But he was good at blocking things out and completely ignoring them, so this should be no different. Hopefully.

"Sure you're okay?" Steve asked, undoubtedly noticing the still-horrified and determined look on his friend's face as they got into his car.

"Yep."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

Luckily, Steve left it alone then. Bucky then did his very best to forget the incident entirely, but as usual, it didn't end up being quite as simple as that.

* * *

Darcy did indeed end up taking Summer shopping, but rather than go to a store to do this, she took her shopping in Summer's own closet. The result was Darcy unearthing relics that Summer had bought in the past but never actually wore, and Darcy left and went home only after making Summer promise that she would wear the full outfit that she had picked out the following day.

Unable to back away from a promise, Summer begrudgingly put on the cute and still mostly conservative vibrant blue wrap dress that had been in the back of her closet with the tags on for about two years, then a pair of white high heels with black trim that she had worn all of three hours for one day the year prior. It was mainly the heels that she'd fought Darcy on, but according to her, the only way she'd get used to them was if she broke them in and besides, "this is college, it's time to realize that you're hot and dress like it". She wasn't totally sure about that, but at least doing this would keep Darcy off her back and put some of her prior investments to good use.

And so, as she walked into Professor Barnes' class that morning with her feet already hurting a bit and the heels clicking beneath her, she felt relatively good about herself overall for once and felt a little spark of confidence as she noticed heads turning her way. Darcy, already there and in their usual spot, gave her the thumbs up, and Summer grinned at her before glancing to her left to steal one little look at the professor.

He was there early that day, sitting at his desk and reading something on his phone. He glanced up as she walked by and quickly nodded a silent greeting, which was normal for him, and she was in the process of smiling in reply when she tripped over her own feet and ruined her brief moment of confidence. She caught herself before she could face plant to the floor, thankfully, but she did twist the crap out of her ankle and make an embarrassing gasping sound that echoed horribly loudly throughout the hall.

"You okay?" her suddenly concerned professor asked, and she nodded while dying inside and half-limping off to her seat. Her ankle burned and her face burned even more, but she at least managed to not trip again before she ended up sitting next to Darcy.

"I hate you," she muttered to her friend. "I really do."

"I know," Darcy nodded, giving Summer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Then she leaned in closer and whispered, "But guess who watched you walk up here the whole way and stared at your high heels like they wanted to, I don't even know, like... lick them?"

"That stupid Mike guy?" Summer guessed.

"No," Darcy rolled her eyes. " _Grumpypants_."

Summer stared at her in disbelief before shaking her head and muttering, "Are you high right now?"

Darcy sighed heavily and leaned in even closer. "When you first walked in, he looked at you and got this weird, like, overly serious look on his face and looked away, kinda like he was forcing himself to, you know? Then he looked up again and nodded at you, which was when you kinda... spazzed out. Anyway, so then he watched you the whole way up here, like I said."

Summer was caught between wanting to scream at this information and instantly trying to poke holes in Darcy's story, because there was no way it could be true. She went with the latter. "Why were you watching him so closely?"

Darcy shrugged. "I have no shame in doing my fair share of staring when the urge hits. I just so happened to stare at the right times to notice these things."

Summer scoffed. "I'm sure you're just reading into things too much."

"No, you're right. He was probably staring at you because he was wondering if the shoes come in his size."

Summer half-glared at her, and Darcy glared right back. Summer shook her head and said, "Him and Romanoff are probably a thing. He's not gonna be looking at his students when he's got _that_ to look at."

"And what if they're just really good pals?" Darcy asked. "Would he be looking then?"

"No, because I'm -"

"What?" Darcy interrupted. "You _do_ realize you're hot, right?"

"Okay but even if I _was_ , I'm still a student and he doesn't really seem like the type who would... do that kind of thing," Summer replied.

"Hey, I didn't say he was gonna ask you to stay after class and then ravish you on his desk," Darcy shrugged. "I all I said was that he was looking. And he _was_."

Summer stayed silent, glancing at the professor in question and then picking up her pen out of her bag, reverting to her usual method of coping with his presence, which was to chew on the pen until it no longer even resembled a writing instrument.

"... Now you're imagining him ravishing you on that desk, aren't you," Darcy asked knowingly.

"I hate you even more," Summer groaned, feeling her face heat up all over again just at those words. Just knowing she had to spend the next hour listening to this man and actually focus on what he was teaching rather than wonder if Darcy was actually right and then let her mind drift to how he'd looked at the gym the day before... oh boy.

She made it through the class without further incident and managed to mostly retain what he taught, but her humiliation for the day wasn't quite over. More came later, just as she was leaving campus for the day and counting down the minutes until she could get home and take off her heels and most likely never wear them again, because _ouch_.

Headed towards her truck, she circled around the building she'd spent the whole day in and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke coming from somewhere up ahead. She didn't think much of it, but after turning a corner, she heard familiar male voices, one of which sounded particularly exasperated.

"Come on, man, it's my one vice. I don't even hardly drink anymore."

"I know, but I'd _rather_ you have a drink or two here and there than do this. This is gonna kill you someday, Bucky."

Summer kept walking, unable to see the men quite yet, but... _Bucky_?

"Yeah, maybe if I smoked like a pack a day, but this is my first one today, and it's almost five."

"And that's one step closer you are to lung cancer."

They finally came into view just as Professor Barnes, or apparently "Bucky", sighed and tossed his cigarette on the ground and put it out. "There, happy?"

"Yes, now give me the whole pack, and we're square."

They were standing just outside of one of the exits, neither of them noticing her as she walked by some feet away. She was too busy marveling over how cute she found "Professor Steve" and his seemingly inexplicable nickname for his best friend to notice the wall she was coming up on, so she smacked right into it with a loud and highly surprised "oomph". _That_ got their attention.

As she regained her bearings and mentally cursed herself into infinity, she rubbed her now-hurting face and then glanced over when, for the second time that day, Professor Barnes asked, "You okay?"

She gave him the thumbs up and prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. "Yup. Totally fine. Thanks."

He nodded, both men smiling at her in a cringing sort of way, like they could feel her pain, but the embarrassment of it all was so much worse than the pain of simply walking into a wall. She then gave an odd, slightly jerky wave and then hurried off towards her truck, deciding then and there that Darcy had definitely been wrong, because there was _no way_ that a man like him would ever check a girl like her out.

She would have known that the opposite was true, however, if she had known that as she walked away, Bucky watched her leave in a manner that was obvious enough to earn him a punch on the shoulder from Steve.

"Ow!" he said, turning and glaring at Steve. "The hell was that for?"

Steve merely held up a single finger and said, "Bucky, no."

"No _what_?"

"She might be cute and she's definitely your type, but she's a student," Steve pointed out. "When I said that maybe you should start dating, I didn't mean -"

"Steve, what the hell are you even talking about?" Bucky asked, playing bewildered quite well. But Steve only gave him a _very_ knowing look, and Bucky knew it was useless to hide anything from him.

"I'm just reminding you of the rules, that's all," Steve replied.

"I know the rules," Bucky muttered. "Calm down, Steve."

"I just don't want you to -"

"Screw this up," Bucky finished for him. "I know. And I won't. So quit worrying. All I did was look."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes just a look is all it takes."

Bucky scoffed. "She's not even like that. She's smart, she pays attention in class. She's serious."

"I know, I've got her too," Steve nodded.

"I assigned an essay the first week of class and everybody hated it," Bucky recalled. "She turned hers in before everybody else and it was the best one. She's _really_ good."

"Yeah, you can tell she's a writer," Steve agreed, eyeing his friend curiously. "You know, this is the first time I've ever heard you actually _praise_ a student."

Bucky merely glared at him again and then opened the door to head back inside. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Hope not," Steve replied casually, following him inside. "Gotta wonder why she walked into that wall, though. Is she that clumsy or was she just that distracted?"

Bucky shook his head. "If you don't drop it, Steve, I'm gonna need my pack of cigarettes back."

Steve grinned and relented. "Fine."

* * *

Over time, Summer came to particularly enjoy her job at the library, and not just because it paid well enough that she wasn't starving _too_ badly and was peaceful enough that it was almost a respite from the rest of her schedule. She liked it because it was steady but calm work, and because it was somehow easier to believe that one day there would be books bearing her own name when she was surrounded by multitudes of classic works. Plus, there was the little coffee shop attached to the library that she got a good discount at, and that in itself seemed to justify the job entirely.

Her shift had two hours left on a Friday night when she took a five minute break to grab her latest caffeine fix, chatting with the coffee girl as she fixed the drink behind the counter.

"Then this kid today was so mad that we didn't have a comic book section that his mom had to drag him out crying," Summer chuckled, leaning on the counter casually and not thinking anything of it. It was a slow night, and once she got back from her break, she'd be the only staff remaining until closing.

"Can't blame the kid," the girl replied, sticking the lid on Summer's drink. "What kind of library doesn't carry comics?"

Summer shrugged, straightening up and taking the coffee when it was handed to her. "The kind that would suck enough to hire me," she grinned before taking a drink and turning around, only to choke slightly and stop in her tracks to keep from colliding with literally the last person she expected to be standing in line behind her.

" _Oh_. Hi, Professor," she half-stammered, eternally glad that she hadn't spilled her coffee on either herself or the man who stared at her in equal surprise before smiling at her greeting.

"Hi," Professor Barnes replied quietly, and Summer tried to maintain eye contact and not scream over the fact that he was wearing a black leather jacket and dark, well-fitted jeans with hair that was _just_ messy enough to be perfect. "Good balance today?"

She smiled and tried not to blush with embarrassment. "Luckily, yeah, I guess so. Doesn't seem to happen often, so..."

He smiled, just slightly, then let his eyes flicker down to her name tag. "You work here?"

She nodded, feeling especially nervous with communicating with him outside of their usual academic, and therefore safe, environment. "Yup, part time, as much as I can. Helps with, you know, not starving."

She then laughed nervously, mentally telling herself to shut up, but he looked mildly amused as he replied, "Yeah, jobs are good for that."

Deciding that this was one of the least impressive conversations she'd had with any man ever, she tried to recover with, "So, what brings you here?"

Though it was fairly obvious thanks to the computer bag he was carrying, he replied, "I come here sometimes to grade papers. Usually in the mornings, but not today."

"Oh," she nodded. "Makes sense. Well, I'll make sure it stays quiet for you. Part of my job," she smiled, _feeling_ herself start rambling. "Even though there's kinda nobody here right now, but... you never know when someone and their screaming kid is gonna show up."

"Yeah... thanks," he nodded, and she stood there smiling like a moron before realizing she was late coming back from her break and that he was kind of waiting to order his damn coffee.

"Anyway, I'll just... uh... get back to work," she chirped, finally getting out of his way and heading back towards the library as he nodded his goodbye. She rolled her eyes and groaned as soon as she was a safe distance away, which was also when she decided to sneak a glance back to him. His back was to her but she could see the coffee girl smiling flirtatiously as she took his order, and her eyes instantly narrowed because she _knew_ the girl had a boyfriend already.

After getting back to work and sending her coworker home, Summer went about her usual pre-closing rituals and tried to simply ignore the fact that her uncomfortably attractive professor was sitting in one of the library's little reading areas and concentratedly working on his laptop, and _definitely_ not sneak any more peeks at him. After all, he had eyes like a hawk - she knew that from class - and the last thing she wanted was for him to catch her staring like some starry-eyed... well... schoolgirl.

She had no idea that he was as frustrated by her presence as she was by his.

* * *

She was _everywhere_ , it seemed, and he was starting to think that she was somehow doing this on purpose. It was irrational to think so, of course, but what other explanation was there?

Reading through the past week's assignments with only a fraction of his usual level of focus, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the computer screen in front of him lest they wander to the girl currently putting returned books away on a few shelves within his line of sight. An hour had passed since he'd arrived, and he was only a few papers in, not to mention much more distracted than he was willing to admit.

Normally, in class, she wore her hair down, but here she had her hair up in a loose but mature looking hold on the back of her head, and it gave him a glimpse of the back of her neck that he was certainly _not_ looking at. Similarly, he was not looking at her legs under her pretty white knee-length skirt, nor the tight aqua-blue top she wore framed her shoulders and collarbone in a way that he had _definitely_ not noticed. At least she wasn't wearing those heels again. It was his only saving grace.

Every time she so much as breathed in his direction, he looked away and focused back on the screen, cursing himself more vigorously each time that it happened. She made it hard to look away, though, especially when her clumsiness made an appearance again and he watched her drop an armful of books and carefully bend over to pick them up. He might have thought that she was _trying_ to catch his eye had he not known better.

Before he had managed to make any real progress in the grading process, two hours had gone by and Summer had locked the doors to close the library down. After, she smiled and told him that he could stay a few more minutes, since she had a few final closing procedures to go through, and he thanked her quietly before she nodded and disappeared from his sight.

Giving up on even trying to read anymore, he set his laptop down on the small table in front of him and began shutting it down, mind running amok with a lot more than self-ridicule, though there _was_ a lot of that. Mostly he wondered why he was stupid enough to keep looking at something he knew he could never have, which he believed to be true even if she hadn't been his student. She could have been the girl at the coffee shop, completely available and totally ethical to pursue, but he still would have been all wrong for her and she wouldn't have wanted him anyway.

As if to make his point for him, as his computer screen faded to black, a deafeningly loud crack of thunder sounded seemingly directly above the building, and Bucky jumped and suddenly lost his breath. Heart instantly pounding and mind racing with memories of other very loud and much less naturally-occurring _booms_ , Bucky closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe, mentally telling himself that it had just been thunder and that he was safe now, but regaining his sense of calm wasn't easy. It never was.

It was exhibit A, he was convinced, of why a girl like Summer would never look twice at a man like him.

* * *

Summer had been typing on the office computer when the thunder had happened, and she had squeaked in surprise and nearly had a heart attack at the unexpected and horribly loud sound. It had then taken her no time to emerge from the back and all but run to the front of the library, peering out of the glass doors and finding it utterly _pouring_ outside. The sun had long since set, but a long and jagged bolt of lightning lit up the sky before there was another huge crack of thunder, and then the lights overhead flickered several times, further proving the strength of this storm that had struck out of nowhere.

"I wouldn't stand so close to a glass door right now," she heard a familiar voice say behind her. She turned and saw her professor standing there, laptop bag over his shoulder again and ready to leave. "Looks pretty bad out there."

"Yeah," she agreed, taking a few steps away from the doors. Unfortunately, that brought her closer to him, and she felt even less safe about being _there_ than being next to glass during a heavy storm. "Well, um... this kinda... sucks."

He nodded, walking past her and peering out the door himself. She busied herself with checking the radar on her phone, and a moment later she said, "Tornado watch. Yay."

"We should just wait it out," he decided, and Summer instantly wanted to giggle, scream, and cry at the same time, though not necessarily in that order. Sitting inside a closed library alone during a creepy storm with _him_? Just peachy.

After a few moments of awkward fidgeting on her part and odd silence from him, they ended up mutually deciding to go wait in the reading area, which was mostly free of glass windows and near the center of the building, which made it technically safer than anywhere else. It also meant, however, that Summer had to sit in relatively close proximity to him and, she realized as soon as they were seated, make small talk or _something_ before the awkwardness made her crawl under a table and hide.

He was tugging at his sleeve again, like always, and she was playing absently with the hem of her skirt before she took a breath and said, "So... this is fun."

He glanced up at her and almost smiled, but not quite. "It should blow over fast."

She nodded, wondering how long they could manage to just talk about the weather. "Storms usually do here." When he had nothing to say to that, she got her answer. Switching tactics, she then asked, "So, was my paper one of the ones that you were grading?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"... Could you tell me what I got, or..."

He shook his head, this time smiling a bit more fully. "You'll find out when the rest of the class does."

She smiled and nodded, looking down. "Okay. Well, worth a try, I guess. Can you at least tell me if it was awful? Because I wasn't sure if I really understood everything last week, but..."

"It wasn't awful," he replied, at least giving her _that_. "I haven't seen anything awful from you."

"Oh, well... thanks," she replied, twisting the ends of her skirt more the longer they spoke.

He nodded, then asked, "Can I ask you a question?" When she nodded in surprise, he asked, "Why are you studying linguistics?"

She blinked, having not really expected that. "Well... I want to be a writer, and that's where I've been told my talent is my whole life, but it doesn't always, you know, pay the bills. Like maybe someday it will - I _hope_ it will - and I've taken some writing classes, but I wanted to study something that I could fall back on for a career but still found interesting. So linguistics seemed like a good fit, since I like words and it's all about language and stuff."

"How do you like it so far?" he asked thoughtfully, seeming genuinely interested in getting her answer.

"I like it a lot," she smiled. "I mean, like I said before, I'm not always sure that I'm totally getting everything, but..."

"You seem to be," he shrugged. "Do you have any questions I could answer for you now?"

She stared at him for a second, feeling slightly like a deer in headlights and a bit put on the spot. "Um... oh man, I know I do but I'm not sure I could really remember anything right now." _Not while you're sitting in front of me in a leather jacket looking all perfect and oh God now you're_ smiling _at me_.

"That's okay. My door's always open," he replied, smile faint but definitely there.

"Okay," she smiled back, for some reason feeling her cheeks start getting hot in what was undoubtedly a pink blush, and she was busy praying the heat away when there was another sudden, ear-splitting crack of thunder overhead.

She jumped when it happened, but _he_ seemed far more startled than she. His entire body jerked at the sound, and she saw a distinct but very brief flash of panic in his eyes that confused her until he seemed to regain his bearings, closing his eyes briefly and sighing like he was mad at himself.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. He had been in the Army and had suffered terribly, evident from the glimpse of his left arm that she had accidentally gotten in the gym, and any sort of loud noise that might sound similar to an explosive would surely jar him at the very least.

After a moment, he rubbed his eyes with his fingers and then sighed, appearing to calm himself down, and she didn't say a word. It wasn't her place to say anything, and what _could_ she say, anyway?

After that, he couldn't seem to look her in the eye, and the conversation was all but gone. She got the distinct feeling that he was embarrassed or just uncomfortable, and when more thunder rolled outside, she decided to try a tactic other than respectful silence.

"My parents died in a car accident," she said, taking herself by surprise as much as him. "I was six. They, uh, they were taking me and my brother out of state on vacation, and this other car... well, truck... came out nowhere and hit us almost head on. We went spinning, flipped a few times. Me and my brother were okay, but my parents were dead by the time the ambulances got there."

He stared at her, torn between confusion and quiet empathy for her. She looked down at her her hands and added, "Anyway, so because of that, I was terrified of driving. But I had to learn when my brother went away to college, because my grandma was sick and someone needed to be there to take her to and from her doctors, so... I forced myself to start driving. I used to be so scared whenever I'd get on the interstate that my foot would shake on the gas pedal, and if a semi passed me, I'd basically stop breathing. I'm a lot better now, but I still have my moments. I guess my point is... it sucks to be reminded of bad stuff from stupid every day things like merging into traffic or... thunder."

He stared at her in surprise, and she was surprised at herself as well. She had hardly even thought first before speaking, and now that she had, she was suddenly terrified that she had overstepped or offended him somehow.

But she hadn't. They sat in thoughtful, not uncomfortable silence, until he - plucking at his left sleeve - said so quietly that she barely heard, "Fourth of July's the worst."

She hadn't even thought of that before. Now she felt like a jerk for never thinking of how veterans dealt with the loud fireworks on that day every year.

"It's also my friend's birthday," he added. "We loved it when we were kids. But now..." he trailed off and shrugged.

"You know they make noise canceling headphones," she said. "I know because my brother used to snore really bad, and his room was next to mine, and headphones saved my life."

They both smiled faintly at her exaggeration. "Yeah, maybe I'll look into that."

She nodded, feeling almost giddy at the thought of having maybe helped him with something, even if it was very small. Then, processing what he'd said, she asked, "Wait. You said the Fourth of July was your friend's birthday. Do you mean Professor Steve, because if _that_ is his birthday, you have no idea how fitting that is."

"Yeah it's him," he replied, almost-smile back on his face. "And I definitely know how fitting it is."

"Yeah, but all the students call him Captain America because he's so patriotic and like..."

He nodded. "Who do you think first gave him that nickname?"

She paused and then grinned widely. " _Oh_. Okay, yeah. That makes sense."

"I'm sure you guys have a few names for me too," he said, leaning back and, for now, leaving his sleeve alone.

She tried not to freeze a little, but it was hard, considering the... nature of his nicknames she'd heard from others. "Yeah, there's, you know... one or two."

"Do I want to know?" he asked, squinting slightly.

"They're not too bad," she shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean..." Deciding that she needed to distract him before he forced the words "Hottie McGrumpypants" out of her, she smiled and said, "I kinda overheard Professor Steve's name for you the other day, when I, uh... well, when I walked into the wall."

"Oh, yeah," he nodded. "Not many people call me that. Mostly just him and a few others." Then he paused. "I'm curious about something."

"What?" she asked, hoping to God it was a safe topic and not one that would make this entire situation more awkward.

"I don't... care what anyone thinks, honestly, but... what do the students say about me?"

She noticed that he kept saying "the students" rather than "you students", as if he was somehow separating her from the others, but she'd deal with whatever that meant later. "Oh, well... um... I mean most of them think that you're angry and... overly harsh... too strict... and terrifying. But very knowledgable about the material and, you know, otherwise a good teacher."

Amused by her response, he shrugged and said, "Well, guess not everybody can be as popular as Captain America."

Then he cracked a smile, and she smiled back. "I don't mind it. I mean yeah, the first day I was scared to death and dropping stuff everywhere, but..."

"Yeah, I remember."

Her inner alarm bells went off. _He did_?! To deal with this, she started rambling. "Yeah, so... it's just that for me, it was a big change anyway because I went to this tiny community college back home, so this has all been a big adjustment."

"You're doing very well," he replied, and she could tell that he was totally sincere. "You work hard and it's obvious. I appreciate that. It's the kids who don't work hard who piss me off."

She smiled because he did first. "Yeah, I would bet I'd be angry too if I had to deal with that. Plus everyone coming up with rumors and stuff..."

"Rumors?"

 _Oh crap_. Floundering momentarily, she waved a hand and said, "Oh, just... little stupid things that aren't anyone's business."

"Like?"

"Um... well everyone thinks that you and Professor Romanoff are together."

His eyebrows shot up a bit. "They _do_?" When she nodded, he grinned and looked away, shaking his head. "Wow. Figures, but no. We're not."

"Oh." What else should she say to that? _Cool_? _Awesome_? _Now that I know you're single, would you mind texting me in two years when doing so would no longer mean the end of both of us?_ In the end, she went with, "Then there's the handful of people who think you and Professor Steve are like secretly married and... stuff."

His expression went from amused to confused and mildly horrified. "Oh God. That's... _no_. Jesus. _Why_?"

She shrugged her ignorance. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure that this is just what happens when a college has weirdly young and good looking professors. It turns into a rumor mill and the students just..."

She froze mid-sentence, unblinking and realizing that she had just slipped and let it be known that she found him attractive, which... was not helpful or wise, at all, and now it was too late and she couldn't take it back. And the bastard had the nerve to appear _amused_ by this, looking at her knowingly and grinning just slightly.

"I meant all three of you," she quickly added, trying to save herself. "Because you're _all_ hot." She froze again and realized she was making this worse. "Not _hot_ , oh God, what am I even..."

"Relax," he replied, shaking his head and _still_ grinning. "I know what you mean. It's okay."

It _wasn't_ okay, but he didn't need to know that. She needed to try to escape now, so she looked around and said, "I'm gonna go check and see if we can leave yet."

To her surprise, his face fell just slightly as soon as she said those words. But he shook it off before she could even blink and said, "Yeah, good idea."

Wondering if he had actually been disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end, Summer got up and headed back towards the front of the library to look out the doors. Now it was only lightly raining, and a look at the radar on her phone confirmed that the storm had mostly passed now. She turned to go tell him, only to once again find him already right behind her. Getting used to this now, she wasn't as startled and was able to smile and say, "Guess it's safe now. I'll go turn off the lights."

He nodded, and then she walked around him to go take care of the final procedures. Once it was done and the building was dimmed to just a few soft lights here and there, she headed back his way with her purse and keys in hand, and she _definitely_ did not catch herself staring at how the light reflected off his profile here in the almost-dark.

"Okay, finally," she smiled, opening the doors and letting him walk through first, then turning and re-locking them once they were outside. He stood there and waited for her, and when she turned back around, he surprised her one more time.

"I'll walk you to your truck," he said, starting the mere ten-second walk to said truck as she fell into step beside him.

"Oh, okay. You don't have to do that," she immediately assured him.

"It's late, this is a big city," he shrugged. "Can't hurt."

"Yeah," she agreed lightly, and then, that quickly, they were standing next to her truck. Trying to figure out how to say goodbye without feeling like an idiot, she turned and said, "Well, sorry about the whole getting stuck here thing."

"I... don't think it was your fault," he pointed out, half-grin making a reappearance. "Unless you've got superpowers you're hiding."

"Yes," she replied with a mock-serious nod. "I'm Storm, from X-Men. I trapped us here on purpose."

He played along, and she quickly realized she should have kept her mouth shut. "Yeah? Why would you do that?"

 _Frick frick frick_. "Um... I, uh... you know, just to... uh..."

He watched her carefully as she tried and failed to come up with a witty, non-incriminating response, and when it became clear that she had nothing, he simply gave her a look and, to her surprise, gave her shoulder a light pat with his right hand. "Goodnight, Summer."

"Goodnight," she replied as he walked away, heading to his own car as she watched him leave for just one second too long to be appropriate.

She got in her truck and flipped on the engine, taking a deep breath and realizing for the first time how fast her heart was fluttering and how her hands were even a little shaky. Groaning to herself, she lowered her forehead on to the steering wheel and gave herself a moment to cringe and curse at herself for being such an idiot, but her distress wasn't over yet. She realized that his car was only two spaces away from hers, and when she looked up and timidly glanced out the passenger side window, she found that he had indeed witnessed her moment of face-to-steering-wheel misery. While she died a little inside, he grinned and maintained eye contact just long enough to nearly give her a heart attack, then backed up his car and drove away.

"Oh my God, he totally knows," she muttered, covering her face with her hands and wondering why she did these things to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Eeep! Omg you guys have had such a great response to this story, I am positively aflutter :D Thank you so much to each of you who have read, reviewed, or faved or followed this story, I love you all BUNCHES *giant e-hugs*. So, here's the next part lol, and just to kind of explain the rather brisk way I go through time jumps here, this was originally meant to be a oneshot and then it got so long that I decided to break it up so as to not overwhelm anyone with a 50k word oneshot lol. So keep that in mind if doesn't read quite like a typical multichapter story, because it wasn't supposed to be one in the first place. :) Also, there will be one more part and an epilogue after this, and the next part might take a few days because I'm still finishing it up, but it'll be up soon and it will be VERY long lol, so keep an eye out for that. Thank you all again, SO MUCH :D**

"Okay," Darcy said, glass of cheap but strong red wine in hand, "that's it. We're getting you a date."

Taking a healthy gulp of her own wine, Summer sunk further into her couch and looked away from Darcy, expression turning even more miserable. "Oh God, no. Anything but that."

"She's right," Esteban said, drinking straight from the bottle on Summer's other side. "You need to get out there, honey."

"But I don't want to," Summer muttered.

"Well, taking the chance of having a couple crappy dates beats pining over someone you _definitely_ can't have," Darcy pointed out.

"I'm not pining!" Summer argued in a rather high-pitched slur.

"You just got done telling us how you were trapped in a library last night with a professor and told him he was hot not once but twice. You're going out on a date. Clearly you need some action, and _not_ from a professor," Darcy said, holding up her glass as if to emphasize her point, accidentally splashing Summer in the process. "Oops. Sorry."

Summer shrugged, barely even noticing the mild splashing. She stared into half-drunken space for a moment, took another gulp, then asked somewhat dreamily, "Do you think he really _was_ checking me out that one time when I was wearing those horrible high heels and you said he looked like he wanted to lick them?"

Darcy sighed and set her glass aside, pulling her phone out. " _O_ -kay, so, since you seem to have a thing for hot Army guys, I know this guy. I have a friend named Marco, and he just got out of the army like last year, and he goes to a support group for veterans run by this guy Sam."

"Which one are you setting her up with?" Esteban asked, confused.

"Sam," Darcy replied, tapping away on her phone. "Hmm... let's see, I know I've got a good picture of you in here somewhere... oh, here we go. Super cute." Then she typed for a moment, pushed a button, and announced, "Sent."

Summer suddenly choked on her latest gulp and exclaimed, " _What's_ sent?!"

"I'm setting you up on a hot date," Darcy waved her off. "Just be quiet and go with it. You'll like him. Everybody likes him. And he's cute, and older, which you obviously seem to like."

"Oh God," Summer muttered, grabbing the wine bottle from Esteban and handing him her empty cup instead. "What the fricking frick, Darcy."

"See, you can't even properly curse. Are you sure you're a grownup?" Darcy asked before her phone dinged. Upon reading the new text, she smiled, "Oh hey, there we go. He says he's interested. I might have just gotten you laid. You're welcome."

"But I don't even know what he looks like yet!" Summer groaned. "I hate you, Darcy."

"I know, I know, but you know what, it's for your own good," Darcy replied. "By the way, how long _has_ it been since you've seen any action?"

Summer merely took a swig of wine from the bottle and shook her head. After about five more straight minutes of drunken pestering, Summer finally blurted out, "Five years, okay? Geez, you psychos!"

" _Five years_?!" Darcy and Esteban both repeated in unison, each of them dumbfounded at her answer.

"It's a long story," she muttered, setting down the wine and standing up on very wobbly feet. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go to be- ahh!"

She didn't quite make it to bed, tripping over nothing and ending up a sprawled mess of dizzy drunkenness on the floor while her friends laughed heartily with her. She had no idea that on that very same night, across town, the person that Darcy was trying to get her to stop thinking about was also drinking and talking about _her_ with _his_ friends. Or, as the case was, one friend in particular.

* * *

Natasha stared at Bucky with a mixture of incredulity and endless amusement in her green eyes, and he stared right back with an expression that dared her to give him crap over what he'd just very reluctantly admitted to her.

She gave him crap anyway, of course.

"A student, James? _Really_?" She grinned, picking up the bottle of whiskey between them and refilling their glasses. They were sitting at the small kitchen table in Steve's apartment, and in the other room, Steve and a friend of theirs was watching a game on TV. After having been able to think of nothing else but said student since their encounter the day before, Bucky had ignored his own better judgement and asked Natasha if they could speak alone for a few minutes, which had led them here to this mildly unpleasant moment.

"I know it's stupid," he replied. "I don't pay you to tell me the obvious."

"You don't pay me at all," she pointed out wryly. "So what is it about this girl that's so much better than the fifteen other girls I've tried to set you up with?"

He shrugged, not really knowing the answer. "I don't know. And I know it's never gonna happen. I wouldn't try to make it happen, put her in that position."

"But you must feel pretty strongly if you're admitting it to me," she noted, sipping her drink. "Is it the forbidden aspect? You can't have her, so it makes you want her?"

He quickly shook his head. "No. It's not that. She's just... I don't know. She's funny. She trips over her own feet and walks into walls, but she's smart. She blushes every time I look at her and... chews the hell out of her pens when I'm giving lectures. She acts like a scared mouse if I talk to her but when we were stuck at the library she warmed up to me and... we just talked and it was... nice."

Natasha listened to him calmly, expression giving nothing away until she drew a breath and said lightly, "Well, if that doesn't sound like a cheesy romantic comedy speech, I don't know what does."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You're my therapist. You're supposed to tell me something helpful and insightful and make me come to my senses."

"You already said you wouldn't act on your impulses," she replied. "As long as you don't make any advances towards her, there's really no harm. It's not the most _healthy_ crush you could have, but..."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily and muttering, "The hell's wrong with me?"

As if he had asked for a detailed list, Natasha then rattled off, "Well, you're a _very_ sexually frustrated ex-soldier with some pretty serious PTSD. You have a very hard time letting anyone get close enough to you to form any real kind of bond, and since you choose to only be around people you have strong bonds with... you're lonely and maybe - _maybe_ \- latching on a bit too strongly to the first girl you've been attracted to in a very long time."

He stared at her helplessly. "So what do I do?"

"I'm not going to tell you that it's okay to risk your career over this girl, James," Natasha replied. "It's not okay. You've worked too hard and come too far to do that."

He nodded impatiently. "So I just ignore it and go on like usual."

"No," she shook her head. "You said that being in the library with her and talking to her to for awhile made your crush worse, yes?"

He felt like the word "crush" was meant for teenagers, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah."

"See, you were forced to interact with her. That's the thing about interacting with other people. Sometimes you end up liking the person and actually enjoying yourself."

He paused and then said in a tired monotone, "You're going to tell me to go on a date, aren't you."

"You know Cassie, who works with Professor Quinn in bio?" Natasha grinned as Bucky groaned. "She's cute. Short little brunette, not too thin, basically just your type. And she thinks you're cute, too."

"Let me guess, she already has my number and I can expect a text asking me out for a drink tomorrow," Bucky groaned miserably.

"Yes," Natasha smiled. "And you might find that you like her, too, if you actually _interact_ with her."

He couldn't explain just how much he did _not_ want to do that. It wasn't just about Summer, though she certainly didn't help matters. And it was nothing against Cassie, who he had spoken to a handful of times and supposed was attractive enough. It was just... well, what _was_ it?

"You deserve a break, James," Natasha said, her tone as sincere as it ever got. "And if you don't want a relationship, that's fine. Casual's good too. Could work wonders for that problem of yours."

"... If one more person talks about my 'problem', I swear to God..."

"It's a hell of a problem," Natasha shrugged. "And there's no shame in having it."

"Really?" he retorted. "Because I'm pretty sure it's enough to turn any girl off, especially if I can't..." he trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence, and Natasha knew enough that he didn't have to.

"And if you can?" she asked. "It would be worth the risk. And it might get your mind off _her_."

As much as he hated to admit it, maybe she was right. He wanted to throw a fit and refuse to even consider it, but maybe it was time to drop his self-imposed dating embargo and finally let Nat set him up with someone. It could end in disaster and embarrassment and lead him to swear off dating for another ten years, but if it went well, maybe it _was_ worth the risk.

Sometimes, he really hated when she was right.

Natasha headed home soon after they finished their talk, and not long after that, his and Steve's friend got up to leave as well, after the game was over. While Bucky remained in quiet but deep thought, Sam gave his shoulder a pat and stopped on his way to the door to ask both him and Steve, "You guys coming to the meeting Tuesday, right?"

"As always," Steve replied cheerfully. "We'll be there."

Sam nodded, then glanced at Bucky and said, "Oh, I haven't told you yet, man. You know Marco from the group?" Bucky nodded, and Sam added, "His friend's trying to hook me up with this girl, and I thought it was gonna be a blind date but I got this picture tonight and I think I'm definitely gonna go for it."

Sam then unlocked his phone, pushed a few buttons and then held it up for Bucky to see, and he couldn't _believe_ how these sorts of things kept happening.

"That's my student," Bucky replied, staring at the picture and trying to ignore how pretty she looked in it, and definitely ignoring the fact that he knew when it had been taken because he recognized how she'd worn her hair in class that day.

"Wait," Sam said, suddenly turning the phone and examining the picture for himself. "Student? How old is she?"

"24," Bucky answered so quickly that both Sam and Steve looked at him a bit strangely. He ignored them both, trying not to let his inner horror at the prospect of her dating one of his few friends show.

"Oh. Okay. Thought she might be like barely 18 and got nervous there for a minute," Sam chuckled.

Steve gave Bucky a subtle look and then told Sam, "Yeah, she's one of our older students. She's smart, really nice too. You'll like her."

"Awesome," Sam grinned back. "She's cute."

Bucky forced a grin when Sam glanced at him, and until he walked out the door, Bucky focused all of his energy on appearing nonchalant and not one rather small step away from giving away how suddenly and irrationally furious he was. He managed to hold it together until the minute Sam was gone, at which point he dropped the act and muttered under his breath, " _You've gotta be fucking kidding me_."

Steve, turning back towards his friend after locking the front door, smiled sympathetically and asked, "You okay?"

"Not really," Bucky replied.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Bucky shook his head, pretty sure he'd lose it if he had to speak one more single word about it.

"Wanna try to punch me for an hour?"

Bucky nodded, and until midnight rolled around, they took advantage of their twenty four hour gym memberships and Steve, ever the ideal best friend, kept his mouth shut. Nothing else was quite as ideal, but that was just life, and he was used to it.

* * *

In the end, Summer gave in fully and agreed to go on the date. The guy seemed nice enough, and once she was sober and back in her right mind, she could see Darcy's logic for what it was. Maybe she really did need to get out and go on a date. Maybe it would help get her head in a better place, because there truly _was_ no point in wanting what she couldn't have, and if she didn't snap out of it, she'd end up doing something stupid, and that wouldn't be good for _anyone_.

So, the following Wednesday night, she put on a dress and those high heels she hated and let Sam come and pick her up for a very traditional date of dinner and a movie. Her hair was fixed and makeup perfect, and he showed up dressed just as well and wearing a smile that instantly put her at ease, and it gave her a tiny inkling of hope that maybe the date would actually go well. And it did.

The restaurant he took her to was nice but not _so_ nice that she felt out of place, and talking to him ended up being much easier than she had feared it would be. He had one of those personalities that made it seem as if she'd known him forever, and she laughed more at that dinner than she had the entire week. He told her about his life and she told him about hers, a lot of the good and some of the bad, about the same ratio as his own story, and it was all simply very easy.

Then, after the surprisingly smooth dinner, they drove to the theater and chose a movie that ended up being utterly terrible, but it didn't put a damper on the night. In fact, they had such a blast quietly mocking the movie and the terrible acting that they earned more than a few angry glares from the other moviegoers, which only made them laugh more. But it was in the midst of this that Summer realized something very important, which was that she and Sam were doing something that she and her brother did when _they_ watched terrible movies together. Sam was great, the date had been great, and she could see herself having a blast with the guy, but only as a friend and not as anything with even a fraction of real romantic interest.

Luckily, the feeling seemed to be mutual, and when he dropped her off at her apartment later, there was zero awkwardness or uneasiness as he walked her to her door.

"Well this was fun," she smiled, meaning every word. "Even though that movie sucked."

"It was hilariously bad," he grinned back, stopping when they got to the main entrance of her building. The lobby was locked after eight o clock, so they were prepared to say their goodbyes there. "But hey, we had some good laughs."

"We did," she chuckled. "And that old bald guy looked like he wanted to kill us over it."

"I was actually afraid for my life when he turned around and gave us that death glare," Sam chuckled back. "Like damn, dude."

"He was so angry," she recalled. "But I mean, can't really blame him, because I'm still mad that you had to pay actual money for us to watch that crapfest."

Sam waved her off. "As long as we had a good time, that's all that matters. And I did."

"Me too," she smiled. "For my first date in like, forever, it was surprisingly awesome."

He grinned back. "Good. We should hang out again."

"We should," she agreed. "Like, we should find more terrible movies to watch and make a night of it with some friends and a lot of alcohol."

"Oh, if you had any idea how uptight some of my friends are, you would know how perfect that idea is," he laughed. "Name the time and place and we're there."

Beyond relieved that they were both on the same page as far as the "friends" thing, Summer then decided that the best way to say goodbye was with a hug. Just for a purely friendly and slight extra touch following such a great night, she also planted a quick and innocent kiss on his cheek, thinking nothing of it.

Neither of them had the slightest clue who drove by at that exact moment and saw them embracing, or how that person instantly got the wrong impression and nearly placed new dents in his steering wheel with tight his grip on it became as he drove away.

* * *

Bucky hadn't even known where Summer lived prior to the accidental drive by, and he wouldn't have known to look for her if he hadn't noticed Sam's car in the parking lot of the apartment complex. Sam had gotten rear ended several months before and had a distinctly screwed up bumper that had stood out like a neon sign as Bucky had driven by, pointing to the couple hugging after what had surely been a fantastic and not at all _unethical_ date. He stared at them until they were out of his sight, and then he glared back out at the road while clutching the steering wheel like it had been the one to personally wrong him.

Stewing in his not-so-sudden jealousy and feeling no shame in the matter, Bucky forgot that he wasn't alone until a feminine voice from the passenger seat reminded him otherwise. "What's wrong?"

He glanced at the woman sitting next to him, schooling his features back into a mask of ambivalence and shaking his head. "Nothing, Cassie."

She smiled, accepting his answer, and he turned his gaze back to the road, still seething inside.

Earlier that day, he'd decided to go ahead and have a drink with Natasha's latest suggestion, deciding that there was no other way to get his head back on track and off of his student. Everything had gone okay, for the most part. Cassie wasn't looking for anything serious, and conversation came easily since they worked in the same place and knew the same people, and it helped that she wasn't one to ask invasive or unpleasant questions. He had one drink and she had three, leaving him sober and her tipsy, and now he was driving her home but she was the very last thing on his mind.

She was pretty enough. She was nice. He couldn't find anything particularly wrong with her, aside from the fact that she simply wasn't who he really wanted to be spending the evening with. As generally pleasant as it had been, he would have taken waiting out a storm in a little library with Summer over a night at a bar with anyone else, and realizing this as he pulled up to Cassie's building was almost enough to send him into a full-fledged panic attack.

It didn't matter, he decided as he parked and forced the panic back down. He couldn't have what he wanted, but he _could_ have what was sitting next to him, and most men would have been perfectly content with that. _Any_ man who had gone as long as he had without a woman's company would have quite literally jumped at the chance, he thought, and yet as he got out of his car and walked Cassie to her door, he already knew that he wasn't going to.

Once they got to her door, she turned around and gave him a wide, flirty smile that he recognized from days long past, back when life had been different and easy. She stepped a bit closer to him, and with her smile never leaving her face, she looked up at him through her lashes and said, "Thanks for tonight. I had a good time."

He nodded, unable to muster up a sincere reply back, and she didn't seem to really need one anyway. She reached out and put a hand on his jacket, then curled her hand around it and pulled him closer, and he could have stopped her, but he didn't. She stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed him, and he didn't fight her nor encourage her. He simply stood still and let his mind start to race as she slid a hand into his hair and kissed him a second time, trying to coax _some_ kind of reaction out of him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a real kiss with anyone, and yet what should have been at least a little pleasant and _somewhat_ enjoyable felt like... nothing. As starved for attention as he was, he didn't want attention from just anyone, even if that someone was attractive and very much eager to get him to see things her way.

His mind flashed to what he'd seen across town only about ten minutes prior, how one of his few close friends had been embracing a girl he had no legitimate claim on and shouldn't have been thinking about the way that he was, and that thought led to another before he could realize what was happening. Without his own permission, he was suddenly imagining what it might have been like had it been himself holding her rather than Sam, and just that one tiny, fleeting thought left him breathless and parting his lips to recapture some of the air that had just left him.

That one breath was all that Cassie needed to deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth and pulling him closer against her, and then he did something that he'd later realize was incredibly stupid. He imagined for just a moment that the girl kissing him was Summer, and his previous numbness was washed away with an instant jolt of excitement the moment he foolishly allowed fantasy to blur with reality.

Before he knew it, his hands were in her hair and he had her pushed up against her front door, no longer unresponsive as he took charge of the kiss and made her moan quietly with delight at the change. He pretended that it was a different woman moaning and scratching her nails through his hair just above his neck with one hand and fumbling with the doorknob behind her with the other, but he could only pretend for so long. The spell broke when she ended the kiss to focus more fully on getting the door open, and all it took was one look at her brown eyes, very different from the blue ones he'd been envisioning, for him to recoil under a wave of sudden self-disgust.

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling his hands away and stepping back so quickly that by the time Cassie looked up, he was already several feet away.

She was thoroughly bewildered. "What?"

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"But... I thought..."

"I'm sorry," he said for the third time, putting more distance between them with each backwards step he took. "Goodnight, Cassie."

Unable to stomach the confused and slightly hurt way that she was looking at him anymore, Bucky turned and walked back to his car as quickly as his feet would take him, cursing himself the whole way. As soon as he was back in the driver's seat, he turned on the ignition and then stared ahead at the road blankly as the full weight of what he'd done hit him.

In the grand scheme of things, it was probably no big deal. But in that moment, the fact that he'd had zero motivation to kiss a pretty woman who wanted him until he had actually pretended that she was a _student_ of his was simply too much. It was wrong, it wasn't fair to either woman _or_ himself, and it meant that this _thing_ that he had been mostly trying to ignore was a bigger issue than he had previously thought.

The worst part was, it wasn't even a _thing_. It was all in his head, the result of one too many times he'd caught Summer staring at him during class and that night at the library, when he'd felt as if he had made an actual human connection with someone who wasn't Steve or Natasha for the first time in years. It was obvious that she liked him too, but it didn't matter. There was nothing there, nothing would ever be there, and he was only making it worse for himself the longer he refused to let it go. _She_ didn't have that problem, as evidenced by what he'd seen between her and Sam earlier that night, and so, he thought, he would be wise to follow her example.

But he didn't. He simply drove him and went to bed alone, as usual, kicking himself the whole way. He kicked himself even more the next day when Sam told him how the date had gone, revealing just how pointless Bucky's reaction had been and how very deeply in trouble he truly was.

* * *

Weeks continued to pass and Summer stayed busy, working when she wasn't at school and continuing to not get very far on the dating front. Things seemed to stabilize and become routine at a certain point, and she became used to working and studying on autopilot while just barely surviving each new chance encounter with her extremely unattainable linguistics professor, which was something that seemed to happen a lot more than it should have.

They crossed paths a few more times at the library and passed each other in the gym once more, but she had no worries that he was stalking her because he seemed to try to keep his distance in a way that was almost desperate. He would smile at her and say hi and make small talk when they'd see each other, but then he'd all but run away at the first chance he got, and she couldn't help but think that it was her fault. She'd clearly flirted too much during their night at the library or had done something to put him off, or maybe he was avoiding her because he feared she might come on to him. She had a million theories but no evidence of anything, so she tried to put it out of her mind and just ignore his existence.

But he was impossible to ignore when she hit a rough spot in a rather important paper that she was writing, and after reaching the unfortunate conclusion that she needed his help, she bit the bullet and made an actual appointment to talk to him after class one day. It had been three weeks since the night at the library and nearly three months since she had begun the class, and she didn't want to take the chance of having her grades start to slide just because she he made her feel like she was going to have a heart attack every time he made eye contact. She just had to suck it up and do her best to not once again tell him how hot he was and walk out of his office with her dignity intact. Or at least _partially_ intact.

After an entire day of both dreading and highly anticipating the meeting, she left her psych class wondering why Professor Romanoff seemed to be shooting her so many odd looks lately, then found a stick of minty gum in her bag to chew on as she headed to the appointment. Not for any particular _reason_ , of course, but just... because.

The office was a fairly long trek away, and she managed to ditch the gum in a trash can just before she arrived at her destination. Ignoring her inner anxiety as it reached an all time high, she stopped in front of his door and reached out to knock on it only to realize that his door was already slightly open. Hand suspended in midair, she furrowed her brows and wondered what exactly she was supposed to do, but then there was a faint breeze at her back and a hand on her shoulder that almost made her jump out of her skin.

"Hey," Professor Barnes said, taking his hand off of her almost as soon as he'd made contact. "You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

She shook her head, trying not to gulp at his sudden proximity or at the tiny peek of his chest under the single undone button of his white shirt, which was where her eyes immediately went first. "No, no. I just got here."

He nodded. "Good. Come on inside," he said, opening the door and gesturing for her to walk through it first. She followed his lead, walking inside and looking around at the relatively small space as he came in and closed the door behind them. The sound of the door closing made her heart speed up a little, though she knew it was silly. It wasn't like he locked it, or would ever do anything like that.

She was staring at a tall shelf stuffed to the very brim with books written in various languages when he quietly told her to have a seat, and to her surprise, he took her bag from her hand and put it up for her. Already somewhat thrown out of her element by that one simple gesture, it took her a moment to snap out of it and sit down in the sole chair in front of his desk while he took his own seat behind it.

"So I read what you sent me," he said, settling in and running his hand through his hair, not that she watched or anything. "And I went ahead and printed it out and wrote my notes in where I thought you could improve it."

"Oh okay," she replied, watching him pull out a few pieces of paper from a drawer of his desk. "Usually teachers just type in little notes and send it back to me, but that works too."

He shrugged, grabbing a pen and grinning faintly as he replied, "I know, but I'm just old fashioned, I guess. I think better with a pen than a keyboard."

She smiled back and then cast her eyes down to the papers as he slid them towards her, and then they both leaned forward to see the words better as he pointed to the first paragraph with his pen. Her eyes flickered to his hand as it held the instrument, lingering on his fingers before he started talking and made her snap out of it.

He went through each section of her paper with her, reading her his notes and elaborating on them as she listened and occasionally looked up at him and nodded. There was plenty of space between them and she _shouldn't_ have felt nervous at all, but she did and the more he spoke, the more anxious she felt. She began fidgeting with her fingers in her lap, paying full attention but sort of waiting for the meeting to end so she could run away and start breathing fully again.

"So yeah," he said in summary, after he had read through the whole thing and answered all the questions she managed to squeak out. "It's good, and if you add what we talked about, it'll be better. I'm glad you asked for help, by the way. Not many students do, so..."

She nodded, then smiled and replied, "Well, they're probably too scared to ask for help."

"But you're not," he pointed out. "And I'm glad, because I do want to help. That's why I'm here in the first place."

"Well this _was_ very helpful," she nodded. "I think I know what to do now. I just hated what I wrote and I thought for sure that it was terrible and I'd tank my grade with it, so..."

He chuckled faintly and shook his head. "It was good, like I said. But you were right that it can be better."

"Yeah, I think that about everything I write, though. I always think it's terrible and just the worst and then other people say it's fine and I don't get it. Which sucks, considering I want to be an author someday, so..."

"Yeah, that could be a problem," he acknowledged. "I think that you're good enough to be reasonably confident, though. I could tell from your first assignment that you were a writer. There's a big difference between you and the average student who only writes when they absolutely have to."

"Yeah, well... thanks. Confidence isn't my strong suit, though," she replied, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. He didn't need to know that, and besides, it was probably abundantly obvious anyway.

His eyes softened slightly, and she noticed that he was back to his habit of playing with his left sleeve. "Maybe it should be."

For few long-seeming seconds, she couldn't think of a thing to say back. "Maybe once I'm published someday. _If_ I'm ever published someday."

"What do you want to write?" he asked conversationally, leaning back in his seat and still tugging at his sleeve.

"Um... well, fiction," she replied, anxiety levels rising at the new topic. "But I'm not really sure yet because I have this issue with coming up with actual ideas for stories, so... I'm just waiting for a good idea to come along."

He nodded. "There's always ghostwriting you could try in the meantime."

"Yeah," she smiled uneasily, "actually I've looked into that, but a lot of times the stories are just awful, like... weird Twilight rip-offs or cheesy horror stories, and that's the _normal_ stuff. I've seen ads for really creepy like fetish porn and I'm just like yeah, definitely not." She then froze and realized she'd actually said the words "fetish porn" to her professor, and if a sniper had seen fit to take her out at that moment, she wouldn't have complained in the least.

He responded by raising his eyebrows and laughing softly. "Wow, yeah... probably not the best way to get your foot in the door."

She was as red as a tomato and she knew that he saw it, and she sat there in a state of brief humiliation before he spared her further agony and changed the subject. "How's the library?"

"Good," she replied in relief. "I've got a shift there in a few hours. Haven't seen you there in like two weeks."

He nodded, looking away and letting go of his sleeve to scratch at his neck. "Yeah, I've been doing my grading here instead. Less..." he paused, looking for the right word, then settled on, "... _distractions_ here."

"Really?" she asked with sudden concern. "It's distracting there? It's not supposed to be. Was it noisy or too crowded, or...?"

He merely shook his head, back to making eye contact now, and it took Summer an embarrassingly long time to realize what he meant. When she did, it hit her like a derailed train.

 _He means you, you blind idiot._

The wind knocked out of her, she stared at him with her mouth hanging open just slightly enough to give away how flabbergasted she was. He looked at her almost timidly, like he was as suddenly terrified as she was, and she decided there was only one thing to do in a situation like this.

Run, and run like hell.

"I, uh... I should go," she said, reaching forward and grabbing the papers he'd printed with hands that she pretended weren't shaking a bit. "Thanks again for... everything."

He nodded, sitting up straighter and then getting up the minute that she did. "Yeah, you're welcome. I'll walk you out."

She wanted to scream and just bolt out the door fast enough to leave a trail of fire behind her, but instead she nodded and then fell into step behind him as he quickly went to grab her bag from the shelf he'd set it on for her. She chewed her lip and could feel her cheeks still burning as he turned and handed the bag to her, and she gave him a quiet _thanks_ as she quickly stuffed her papers into an outer flap and then made the mistake of looking at him again.

There was nothing predatory about the way that he looked at her, none of the confidence that he exuded when he taught, only what looked to her like fear and conflict. She could relate - _oh_ , could she relate - but seeing those things in his eyes only served to terrify her even more, so she tightened her grip on her bag and started walking again, with him only a step behind her.

Her mind started racing. Maybe it was all in her head and just a big misunderstanding, and she was acting like a twitchy moron for no reason. Or maybe it wasn't, and she had every reason to act as she was, because if he actually truly _did_ like her the way that she was starting to believe that he did...

The thought was so unthinkable that Summer momentarily forgot how to walk, and just as she finally was approaching the door, she tripped over nothing and would have fallen had two hands not shot out and caught her on the way down. She yelped with the surprise of it all, and only after he'd helped to steady her did she realize that his hands were on her upper arms and that he was _really_ close.

"God, you really need to be more careful," he said in pure exasperation, and she laughed and turned around, trying to brush it off and pretend that she was fine when inside she was dying a thousand loud, painful deaths.

"Yeah, maybe one of these years I'll learn how to walk," she quipped, smiling up at him and feeling his left hand leave her arm as he half-smiled back at her. But both of their smiles faded when she noticed that his right hand was still holding on to her and showing no signs of leaving.

She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was paralyzed in her throat and her eyes were hopelessly locked with his. The conflict was still there, but now there was something else, something she couldn't immediately identify. Whatever it was, it was frighteningly intense and he wasn't going anywhere.

Then, his thumb feather-lightly caressed one time along the flesh of her upper arm, and that one tiny, almost inconsequential touch was what changed everything. Her terror gave way to heat that had just been _waiting_ for weeks to be stoked to life, and his almost-innocent touch brought it to a roar within her veins before she could so much as blink.

He was staring at her lips, a war raging in his blue eyes, and neither of them flinched when she dropped her bag to the floor, barely aware of her own actions. She could hear her own heart pounding, feel it slamming in her chest as he slowly came closer and slowly slid his hand from her arm to her shoulder. It lingered there for only a second before it went to her hair, his fingers running gently through it as if he had imagined doing so countless times before and wanted to take his time now that it was happening.

 _It was happening_.

The depth of her shock left her unable to do anything but stare at him and barely breathe at first, but some tiny part of her brain that was still miraculously functioning realized that he was waiting for her to signal her consent, since he also seemed incapable of speech at the moment. So, she lifted one of her hands and shakily brought it to his chest, still unable to believe that this was happening and definitely unable to recall the potential consequences when he was touching her and staring at her like he was about to devour her.

The minute her hand made contact with him, his self-control snapped and he _growled_ before shoving her against the door, making her gasp and grab his collar like it was her anchor. Her back hit the door with a dull thud, and though she expected him to kiss the hell out of her at that point, he didn't. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing her in as his right hand cradled her head almost sweetly, like she was precious. His left was on her waist, holding her close, _too_ _close_ , and she was desperate for _something_ to happen, so she carefully brought her hand to his jaw and tried to beckon his lips to hers. They were so close, just a mere breath away, but he still didn't kiss her.

She looked up at him and found his eyes shut tightly, almost like he was in pain. Then he turned his face away from hers, and she closed her eyes as he first nuzzled her hair, breathing in the flowery scent of it and then nuzzling her neck but still not letting his lips touch any part of her. Her eyes opened when his hand left her waist to take her hand off of where it had moved to his neck, and then he placed it against the door next to her head and held it there, keeping her from touching him again.

It was then that he uttered a string of words into her ear that she certainly hadn't expected to hear in that moment. "I can't do this to you."

Her eyes widening in confusion, he drew away and their gazes met. His was full of regret and need, while hers was bewildered and just as heavy as his was. " _What_?"

He shook his head, letting go of her hand so that he could cup her face, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. "You're... I can't, Summer. I _won't_."

"But I won't tell anyone," she said, surprising herself with her own words and how small her voice sounded as she uttered them.

He groaned and closed his eyes for just a second. "Don't... don't say that, please," he muttered miserably, even as he drew closer again but still stopped short of touching his lips to hers, eyes running over her face as if he wanted to memorize every bit of how she looked in that moment.

"I won't," she repeated, _needing_ him to believe her.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "You deserve better."

It was torture, plain and simple. He was so incredibly close and yet still out of her reach, just like he always had been. She knew he hadn't meant to tease her like this and that he was rejecting her because he genuinely cared for her, but she didn't have the capacity to comprehend those things in that moment. Instead, as he reluctantly took his hands off of her, it felt like a sharp stab to her heart to have almost gotten what she hadn't even known she had needed so badly, only to have it yanked away at the last minute.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, voice as broken as her thoughts. She stared down at the floor and refused to look at him as he backed away, no longer pressing her to the door. She could feel the sting of tears building behind her eyes, and she was _not_ going to let him see that.

"No, you're right," she forced herself to reply, nodding and blinking back the tears before they could fall. "I'm sorry, too. I don't want to... I wouldn't... you'd get fired and I'd..."

She shut up before the rambling could get out of control, and besides, there wasn't much more to say. He _was_ right, and she didn't want to be his downfall. He'd clearly overcome a _lot_ to get to where he was, and it wasn't worth whatever had almost just happened against the door of his office.

She picked her bag off the floor and put it back on her shoulder, looking at him and forcing a smile that felt as fake as it looked. He, on the other hand, looked as miserable as she felt and didn't bother hiding it.

"Let's just forget about it," she shrugged, though she knew full well she would never forget it. "Nothing happened, so..."

His expression became somehow even more downcast for a split second before he clenched his jaw and nodded, looking away. "Yeah."

"Okay," she said quietly, shifting on her feet and realizing that she was out of words. There was nothing left to say, so she grabbed the doorknob and turned it, looking at him one more time and saying, "Bye, Professor."

He didn't say goodbye back, nodding stiffly instead and watching her leave in a way that made her heart ache as she opened the door and walked out of his office. She didn't look back after that, closing the door and then walking back into reality.

She was still in shock. Her legs were shaking as they carried her down the hallways, and her hands were tingly, like there wasn't enough blood flowing to them, and her head was spinning harder than it ever had without being drunk first. She could still feel his breath on her lips, her cheek, her ear, her neck, and his hands in her hair and on her body, and it was at the same time too much and not enough.

She didn't know how she would ever face him again, or how she would ever forget what it had felt like to be in his arms for the short, cruel little moment that he had held her within them.

* * *

Bucky stared at his office door after Summer had closed it for longer than he cared to admit, shocked and angry at himself and also pointlessly, _painfully_ turned on after having barely even touched the woman. But it had been enough, more than enough, to make heat erupt in every nerve ending in his body and send his heart racing down a path it couldn't come back from.

He was stupid. He was an idiot who should have left well enough alone, but then he just _had_ to go and touch what didn't belong to him and make everything so immeasurably worse. Now he knew how she sounded when she gasped, knew how warm her skin was, how soft her hair felt when he buried his nose in it and how good it smelled, and he'd never forget any of those things.

Years of therapy were the only reason why he didn't start rampaging through his office, throwing things and taking out his anger at himself on helpless inanimate objects. Instead, he eventually trudged to his desk and sat in his chair, leaning forward and lowering his head into his hands as he cursed himself for what was already the thousandth time.

She'd been so willing, so eager to do something that could surely only end badly for both of them. He had _felt_ how badly she had wanted him to kiss her, and now he wished more than anything that he had. What happened, or _almost_ happened, couldn't ever happen again, and he had lost his one chance to know what her lips tasted like.

Then again, maybe it was better not to know, just as it would have been better to just help her up after she had tripped and then send her on her way. But he couldn't undo what had been done, and now there was no hope of anything being the same. Things would be painfully awkward now, and the one area of life that he'd thought he had firm control over - his professional life - was now just as screwed up as all the others, even if nobody else knew.

A light tap of a knock on his door was his only warning before it opened. He looked up and wasn't surprised to see Natasha standing there, walking in and closing the door behind her before sighing, "I passed a certain student of ours in the hallway, and since she looked like she was crying as she came from the direction of your office, I thought I'd ask you why that might be."

Bucky sighed as Natasha sat down in the other chair, waiting for his answer. His head hurt, _other_ places hurt, and he didn't want to talk about it, but he knew he had no choice now but to fess up whether he liked it or not.

"I messed up, Nat," he muttered, feeling no better for having admitted it but knowing that wasn't the point.

"Go on," she prompted him.

He was silent for a long few moments. Then he surprised both himself and his friend/therapist by saying, "I don't think I just like her. I think I really... _really_... _like_ her."

Her genuinely concerned and considerably surprised reaction was summed in one concise expression. "Oh boy."

* * *

Following that fateful encounter in his office, Summer told nobody of it and kept it a secret as if her life depended on it. She pretended outwardly that nothing ever happened while inwardly thinking of very little else, and after obsessing over it to the point of misery and _maybe_ eating an entire gallon of ice cream by herself, she decided to do the super mature thing and simply avoid him at all costs. And to prove her commitment to this plan, she started by skipping his class for the first time.

At first, she justified it by picking up an extra shift at work and telling herself it would only be once. And true to that plan, she showed up at the following lecture prepared to stare at her book the entire time and pay her professor zero mind aside from when he said something she needed to remember for an upcoming test. But it wasn't quite that simple, and it only took one instance of his gaze meeting hers for her resolve to crumble and convince her that she couldn't do it.

And so, continuing on her path of brilliant mature decisions, she went back to skipping his classes and did her best to study up for the test on her own. She was reasonably confident when the day rolled around, and after taking the test and hoping for the best, she went back to life as usual - school, work, sleep, repeat.

She thought that she was doing fine and had _even_ cut down her daily obsessing over the almost-kiss to the point where she wasn't tearing her own hair out anymore, but then fate struck again in the form of her brilliant plans turning out to be not so brilliant after all. Three weeks after the encounter, she found herself making the trek to his office once more, this time under much different circumstances.

Wearing a knee-length skirt and a thin-strapped tank top that was pretty but definitely not what she would have chosen to wear had she known where she would end up that day, Summer chewed her lip and couldn't decide what pissed her off more; how badly she'd done on the test or how her very helpful professor wanted to talk with her following her uncharacteristically poor performance. It would be the first time she'd spoken to him following the... incident, and the fact that it was the very scene of the crime made it all the worse.

But there was no escaping it, so she made her way to the office later in the day, after her other classes were over, and found its door closed unlike the previous time. She took a deep breath, swallowing her anxiety as best she could, and then knocked on the door. He answered so quickly, she could have suspected that he'd been pacing the floor and awaiting her arrival.

The door opened and he stood there, in a black dress shirt and dark pants, his glasses on his face for all of two seconds before he took them off and said, "Hi."

She nodded and forced a smile that she hoped was nonchalant, barely able to speak over the sudden lump in her throat. "Hi."

"Come in," he said quickly, opening the door and standing aside so she could enter. She looked down at the floor as she came in, hearing him close the door and then only glancing up at him for a beat before following him in silence to his desk. This was just _great_ so far. Totally not awkward at all.

After she took her seat and he took his, she watched him set his glasses down on the desk and clear his throat before looking at her and saying, "So... not your best week."

She nodded, looking down at her hands and smiling out of reflex. "Yeah, guess not."

"You've been missing classes," he noted, and she looked up to find his expression cautious but neutral.

"You noticed," she replied, not surprised that he hadn't missed her obvious attempts at avoiding him.

He nodded, "Yeah. This is pretty out of character for you, so I wanted to talk and see what went wrong, or... how I can help get you back on track."

She almost laughed, but she held it in and shook her head as she looked away. "I don't know. I thought I was getting everything and I studied, I did, but I guess... not hard enough."

"I can't make you come to class, Summer, but you're too smart for this," he said, and everything about his tone and his face told her that he was quite sincere in his concern for her. "And I don't give chances for extra credit, so you've got to do your best from here on out."

"I know," she replied. "I won't miss anymore lectures, I just... I picked up some extra shifts at my job and... had other... things to do." _Like avoid you like the plague_.

He paused, eyes lingering on hers as he seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say next. "I know why you stopped coming. And I'm sorry. It's my fault. That's why I want to help you, because I..." He stopped, clenched his jaw and stared down for a moment before looking back up. "I put you in a bad position and it wasn't fair to you."

Her heart started pounding now that he had brought up the _incident_ , and her cheeks burst into a hot blush within an instant. "Nothing happened," she muttered. "And it's not like I wasn't... fine with it, so..."

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "I'm the one in a position of authority. I shouldn't have said what I said or did what I did."

"You didn't do anything," she reminded him, hoping that her tone didn't give away how unhappy she was with that fact. But really, it _was_ ridiculous. All of this angst and a crap ton of ice cream she'd consumed, and they hadn't even kissed once.

"Yes I did," he insisted. "And I don't blame you for avoiding me. I just don't want my mistakes to screw up your grades. You're smart and you have a bright future ahead, and this is my fault, so..."

"I could have said no," she interrupted, surprising both him and herself. But now that she'd said it, she might as well elaborate, so she took a breath and looked him in the eye. "I could have, but I didn't. So don't put it all on yourself when I was on the same page."

He stared at her for a long moment, and she watched a lot of things flicker through his eyes. Surprise, mostly, but also the same conflict as before and what looked a lot like pain. Eventually he looked away and muttered, "You're a student, Summer."

"But I'm not a kid," she pointed out, for some reason really needing him to get this. "You're only eight years older than me."

"It wouldn't make a difference if we were the same age," he said, slightly exasperated. "It was unethical and... wrong, and I care about you too much to ever..."

Summer's eyes widened fractionally and her lips parted as he trailed off abruptly, as if he'd just let something slip that he'd meant to keep under wraps.

"What I mean is," he amended after taking a breath, "I just... you're..."

"I feel the same way," she said, sparing him from having to battle to find the right words. "I felt horrible afterwards because I know what happens to teachers who... you know," she squirmed slightly, "with their students, and if I was the reason that happened to you... I felt sick just thinking about it."

And thus laid their dilemma. She fell silent, heart racing with the unexpected rush of her confession, and she almost couldn't take the quiet and almost sweet way that he was looking at her, as if hearing that she cared for him as well was what he'd been waiting to hear. Neither of them said a word as they looked at one another, and she held her breath until he finally tore his eyes away and stood up from his seat.

He walked around his desk and wandered past her, running his right hand through his hair and seeming generally distressed. She stayed where she was, at a loss for what to do.

She listened to his footsteps as he paced behind her, then cautiously turned in her seat to look at him. When he stopped in front of his bookshelf and leaned on it with one hand, she decided that clearly this was going nowhere good and that running away was in order once more.

"I'll just go," she said, standing up from her chair and drawing his eye as she took a few steps towards the door. "I'm sorry about the test and... just everything."

He turned away from the bookshelf, facing her and taking two small steps towards her as he shook his head. "Don't be. I'm sorry enough for the both of us."

"Well..." She fidgeted on her feet, one hand fiddling with one strap of her tank. "I mean, like I said, nothing actually happened, so... we should just... act like it didn't happen and... move on, you know? We're both adults, so..."

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Yeah, sure."

She smiled then, as if what she was saying was actually possible, and then added on a whim, "And then when I graduate in a few years... maybe then we could... talk?"

He smiled, then looked down and shook his head. "I doubt you'll be available."

"... Why?" she asked in a moment of genuine confusion.

He gave her a gentle but pointed look, his eyes flickering over her body for half of a split second. "Because you're beautiful and smart and... sweet. Any man would be lucky to have you."

She didn't realize how sad it was that his words were so surprising and so foreign to her that she wondered if she'd heard him wrong at first. Once she knew that she hadn't, she could feel herself melting inside as she smiled somewhat goofily and babbled, "Well, I uh... in case you hadn't noticed, I seem to go for the unavailable types, so I'll probably be single a lot longer than two years, but... thank you."

His expression seemed to grow more pained at her words, and she wondered why she always seemed to say the wrong thing, and why she kept talking. "But you, I'm sure you'll do fine. You could probably have your pick of girls anywhere you go."

He seemed amused, chuckling and shaking his head again. "That's another thing. You're funny."

She smiled, then cringed, "Not on purpose."

He shrugged, and they were silent until he took one more step closer and said, "I mean it, though. You have everything going for you, and you should take advantage of that. Have fun, be happy... just... whatever you want."

She smiled, and against her better judgement, replied quietly, "I can't have what I want, though."

It hurt to admit that, and it hurt even more to see _him_ hurt for her. They were standing close to each other now, not too close but not exactly at a safe distance either, and Summer knew she should go, but it turned out that she was quite the glutton for the pain.

"You might think you like me, but I'm..." he trailed off, looking away at nothing. "I'm not... right."

She furrowed her brows, knowing that he hadn't meant that he wasn't right for her, but simply just not _right_. Then he shrugged and added, "But it doesn't matter. You should... go."

She blinked, remembering that she was indeed supposed to be on her way out, and she nodded before replying, "Right, sorry. Um... thanks again for everything, and for... you know... being cool about the whole... _thing_."

He understood what she meant, so he nodded and smiled faintly. "Yeah, no problem." Then he quipped, "What thing?"

She smiled, though inside she wanted to scream and claw out her own eyes. "Yeah, what thing? No idea what you're talking about."

He smiled back, likely holding back his own inner despair. "Me either."

She forced a quiet laugh and then stood there like an idiot, not heading for the door like she was supposed to and not saying anything either, just... _standing there_. He was doing the very same thing, and she suddenly had no idea what to do or how to say goodbye or... _do_ anything, it seemed.

"Well, thanks again," she said unnecessarily. Then she did the first stupid thing that popped in her head - she suddenly went in for a hug, even though the moment it happened, she instantly knew she'd end up regretting it.

"You're welcome," he murmured quietly, watching her come closer with obvious confusion, stiffening a little as she put her arms around him in a way that was meant to be casual and friendly and, in her head, somehow prove that they were beyond the _incident_. She knew it made no sense and she wished that she hadn't done it, but it was too late now, because she was full-on hugging her professor and there was no going back now.

First, he stood stone-still and didn't react one way or the other. But then his hands slowly left his pockets, and she closed her eyes when she felt his arms reluctantly come up to embrace her back. Her senses quickly went into overload, assaulted with his scent and and the sensation of his breath on the side of her neck as he sunk into the hug fully. One of his hands moved up her back and underneath her hair, ending up half resting on the bare skin of her upper back, and the simple touch burned even more deeply than the last time they'd been that close.

The embrace lasted far too long, but she didn't blame herself or him one bit. This was goodbye, the last time she'd feel him this close to her, and it was hard to find the will to end it when his hand not on her back was running through her hair and his nose was _almost_ grazing her neck.

But it _had_ to end, and when she finally found it in her to pull away, she didn't go far. His arms didn't move, didn't let her go, and then their eyes met and she was on fire all over again.

It wasn't fair. She'd never felt like this for _anyone_ , not once, and yet it didn't matter. The way that he looked at her in that moment was how she'd always wished a man would look at her someday, and it hurt so much that she momentarily lost herself.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, lips that she'd spent far too long thinking about and staring at before, and the thought of going her whole life never knowing what they felt like seemed inconceivable. And besides, at the end of the day and when she was old and gray someday, what was one kiss in the grand scheme of it all? What could it _really_ hurt?

Her hands lingering on his shoulders and his not budging from where they were on her, she leaned in before she could come to her senses and, incredibly softly and sweetly, kissed him despite it all. She felt almost like she'd left her body and was floating in some other plane of existence when it happened, but when it was over and she pulled away, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze, she crashed back down to reality and realized what she'd done.

The shock written on his face was the first thing she noticed. But next she saw the heat and the sheer, desperate _desire_ in his eyes, and it stopped her from apologizing or bolting while she still had the chance. Suddenly there was a hand on the back of her head, and they were both leaning in this time and meeting in another kiss that wasn't quite as timid as the previous one but still soft and cautious.

They kissed once, then twice, and she committed the feeling of his lips pressing softly against hers to her eternal memory. They were soft and warm and everything she had imagined they'd be, but they left too soon, and she opened her eyes when the kiss ended. She expected him to snap out of it, come to his senses and throw her out, but instead he stared down at her with a new and _burning_ intensity in his eyes, tightened his grips on her waist and her hair, then quickly turned them and pressed her against his bookshelf. Then he _devoured_ her.

Gone was the softness and sweetness, and in its place was hungry and slightly rough need that left her suffocating in the best way possible as his mouth ravaged hers. She moaned the first time his tongue touched hers, and the sound seemed to be his undoing as he pressed her harder to the shelf and kissed her like he'd die if he stopped. She clutched at his hair, kissing him back with equal ferocity and moaning again, more loudly this time, when his hand on her waist slid down to her hip and pulled her lower body more tightly against his.

He broke away after what seemed like an eternity had passed, cupping her face and staring down at her with dazed eyes as she panted like she'd just ran ten miles. Neither of them said a word, as if they both feared that speaking would mean the end of this exquisite mistake. Instead, they kissed again, then again, until they were both so stiflingly hot and needy that she was whining with one leg slung over his hip while he ground himself deliciously hard against her. Then, in the midst of it all, he suddenly stopped and took a step back.

Her eyes flew open and she thought the worst, but he put her mind at ease and said with a rough sort of tone she'd never heard from him before, "Wait here."

She nodded, trying to catch her breath as she watched him dash towards the door. Then her heart began pounding even harder when she saw him lock the door, then turn back and start walking to her once more.

He was on her in an instant, this time turning her again and then walking her backwards as he said lowly, "On my desk."

She yelped quietly at those words, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss as he kicked the chair she'd been sitting in aside and the backs of her legs hit the desk. After carelessly sweeping away almost everything on the desk to the floor, he picked her up and sat her on it, then broke their kiss to look at her with that mind-meltingly heated look in his eyes as he said, "You have to be quiet, Summer."

She nodded quickly, but she moaned anyway when he pressed himself between her parted legs and kissed her again, his hands _everywhere_ and his tongue dancing with hers. He pulled away and grinned, kissing a line across her jaw and hissing softly, "Shh..."

"Sorry," she gasped as he began kissing her neck, one of his hands pushing up her tank top so his hand could slide up her stomach. "I just... uh..."

He groaned a wordless reply, exploring her neck and finding out which spots she liked to have kissed and nipped the most, and she was still in such shock that this was happening at all that none of it seemed real. Only moments ago they'd been saying their goodbyes, prepared to spend the rest of their lives wondering what could have been, and now _this_ was happening?

After making her squirm and writhe against him with just his attention on her neck, he raised his head and kissed her again, just as his hands gripped each end of her shirt and began to pull. He broke the kiss just long enough to then take her top off and drop it to the floor, and then he was staring down at her pale pink bra with even more hunger than she'd seen so far, and that was when she could no longer contain her words.

"Is this really happening?" she asked, and his eyes snapped back up to hers. They softened a little at the question, and he touched her face sweetly as he answered her.

"Only if you still want it."

She almost choked on nothing in her haste to tell him, "Oh my God, _yes_ , I want it."

He smiled briefly then, kissing her again and then leaning his forehead against hers and admitting, "I've thought about you like this so many times."

Her mind went blank, unable to quite process the very idea of him fantasizing about her. He kissed her increasingly deeply, hands everywhere and body eager as it rocked with hers, and her head was spinning by the time his mouth left hers to explore the rest of her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, he kissed down her neck and along her collarbone, then down to her chest, where his kisses grew more open mouthed as they moved to the swell of each breast. He didn't try to remove her bra just yet, but he did pull one strap down her arm and peel the cup down to expose one breast, the sight of which made him groan before his fingers and lips upon it drove her to utter loudest moan yet.

Slapping a hand over her mouth, she wondered with horror when the hell she'd gotten so _loud_ in between jolts of pleasure that his touch unleashed. But he seemed to love this, and when he reluctantly left her breast to kiss her lips again, he noted with obvious delight, "You're _loud_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm trying to be quiet but you're..."

He grinned, his hand sliding up her leg under her skirt as he assured her, "It's okay. Just do your best."

She nodded, and he immediately put her to the test with his fingertips as they dragged along her inner thigh, dancing higher and higher until she gasped and he groaned.

"So _fucking_ wet," he whispered roughly against her lips, and that particular curse leaving his articulate, talented mouth took her breath away and made his _observation_ even more true.

As his fingers teased her, she managed to get two buttons of his shirt undone and finally get her lips on his neck to repay some of the havoc he'd wreaked on her. When a moan would try to escape her lips, she'd use his neck to muffle the sound, and she didn't know if it was because it had been so incredibly long for her or just how good he was - or both - but he had her on the verge of losing it in such a short time that she would have thought it impossible before.

But he stopped before she could fall apart, and though she whined when he took his hand away, he quickly hushed her with a searing kiss and the unexpected motion of picking her up and walking them somewhere, their lips moving together all the while.

To her surprise, he took her to his chair behind the desk and gently sat her down in it. She looked up at him in confusion until he sunk down to his knees in front of her, and seeing him like that was something she would never ever forget for as long as she lived. His cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen, and his eyes were dark and smoldering with fire that she still couldn't believe was for _her_.

The first thing that he did was hook his arms under her legs and pull her so that she was on the edge of the chair. Then he pushed up her skirt until it was a pool above her thighs, and next he tugged down her underwear with two fingers as she watched with a deep blush on her face and a sudden wave of nervousness surging from within. Once the panties were on the floor, he looked up at her and maintained eye contact as he dropped his head down and pressed his lips to her inner thigh.

Summer was already squirming, caught in a sudden dilemma of whether she should tell him why she was so nervous about _this_ in particular, or if she should just keep her mouth shut and enjoy herself for once in her life. He inadvertently made the decision for her, being so good at distracting her that she never got even close to uttering a single word. He kissed and teased his way up her thigh, taking his time and drawing it out, but when she felt that first full contact of his mouth upon her, she covered her mouth with her hand and made a sound she previously hadn't known she was even capable of. He glanced up at her, grinned, and then continued on with his task as she lost her damn mind.

He was relentless and so _enthusiastic_ about what he was doing to her that it only heightened what she was feeling, leaving her on the edge from almost the very beginning and holding on only until she simply couldn't any longer. Her end came when one of his hands rose to tease her breast at just the right moment, and a groan of delight left his throat as she lost it, her hand the only thing keeping her from being heard by the rest of the floor as she moaned into it.

He didn't stop until she was half-collapsed in the seat, breathing heavily and momentarily out of it as she floated back down to Earth, her previous experiences being already shattered into oblivion with just his mouth and nothing else. His touch was soft and soothing as he slowly rose from his knees, running his hands along her body and gently scooping her up into his arms as he stood up and turned them around, then sat down and placed her in his lap.

When she finally felt like herself again following that earth-shaking release, she found herself straddling his lap with now-shaky legs and looking into his eyes as he held her, running his hands up and down her back and sides. He was staring at her like he was in awe of her, touching her like it was a privilege to do so, and she couldn't help but break into a huge, almost silly smile.

Her heart swelled when he smiled with her. Then she giggled, and she wondered if it was the girlish, almost innocent sound of it that made him then ask her, "That wasn't your first time with that, was it?"

She paused, blushed more deeply, and then giggled again. "Um..."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "... _How_?"

She shrugged, still smiling as he played with her hair and continued to marvel at her. "Lack of... interest?"

He scoffed and then pulled her down for a kiss that he made sure was deep enough for her to taste before he broke away and murmured, "You taste even better that I thought you would."

Her insides had reached Olympic-level gymnastics at this point. "You thought about _that_?"

"A lot more than that," he admitted, and the burning lust in his eyes relit the fire within her. He'd had his turn with her, and it had been spectacular, but now it was her turn.

"Me too," she grinned before kissing him and adjusting herself in his lap so that she had better control, and then she began a determined mission to drive him as crazy as he had driven her.

She waited until he had groaned a few times and had begun nearly clawing at her to break the kiss, and then she moved her lips down to his neck and began to learn him there as he had learned her. She enjoyed every last moment of it, relishing when he'd sigh or moan quietly when she'd reach one of his more sensitive spots. Her hands busied themselves with getting more of his shirt undone, and when she'd managed to get three more buttons out of the way, she trailed her kisses downwards and set her sights on his chest.

He leaned his head back and held on to her hair behind her head as she kissed and ran her fingertips down his chest, peeking up at him every so often when she wasn't busy kissing or memorizing the toned, firm muscles he kept hidden under his clothes. She'd never touched a man even _close_ to his caliber, and she still couldn't believe that any of this was real, but what _was_ real was _something_ that she accidentally brushed against with her every movement and could no longer ignore.

She straightened up in his lap, kissing his lips again as her hand slipped between them and ran teasingly softly over him through his pants. It was enough to make his breath hitch and eyes open, and she smiled shyly at him before looking down and watching her hand go to his belt and undo it as quickly as she could. He kissed her neck and groaned as she did this, and she smiled and bit her lip before unzipping him and then sliding her hand inside as she turned and kissed him with renewed zeal.

She had _just_ touched him and was utterly enthralled by the way that his eyes rolled shut and head tipped back in an instant when the unthinkable happened, and an unexpected knock on the door suddenly brought the moment to an abrupt and terrifying end. His head shot back up and his eyes flew open as her heart dropped into her stomach, and then she tore her hand away and was scrambling up and out of the chair and, because there was no closet to hide in, darting under the desk.

"Hold on," he called towards the door, throwing her shirt to her and quickly redoing the buttons on his own shirt and fixing his pants, though there was no fixing the obvious _excitement_ they barely concealed. But nonetheless, once his clothes were set right, he leaned down and whispered to her as she half-cowered under the desk, "Don't worry, I'll get rid of them. Just stay quiet."

She nodded, terror and potential humiliation replacing her previous arousal and happiness. He disappeared from her sight, and she couldn't believe that she was actually hiding half-naked under her professor's desk, but she'd deal with _that_ once he got rid of his visitor and she knew that they were safe.

It was as she heard him open the door that she spotted her underwear still laying on the office floor, out of her reach and possibly well in the line of sight of whoever was on the other side of the door. Her eyes widened and she prayed that this would not indeed be the end of her life as she knew it, like she suddenly feared that it would be.

Even if it was, though, it had still been _damn_ worth it.

* * *

He would have laughed at the almost comically bad timing of it all had he not been nearly shaking with rage at the interruption. Mind blank with instant anger at whoever he'd see when he opened the door, Bucky left his student hiding under his desk and stomped his way across the office, unlocking the door and then opening it just a few inches as he peered out with eyes that he knew must have been nothing short of murderous.

"Hey," Steve, the apparent interrupter, smiled as soon as the door opened. "I was wondering if you..." He trailed off and stared at Bucky, confusion in his eyes as he paused and then asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bucky muttered shortly, angling strategically to keep most of his lower half behind the door. "What did you want?"

"Oh, nothing, I just... are you _sure_ you're okay?"

Rolling his eyes and biting back a curse, Bucky said through gritted teeth, "Now's not a great time, Steve, so can you just spit it out?"

Somewhat taken aback by Bucky's irritated demeanor, Steve opened his mouth to reply but then glanced over Bucky's shoulder, into the office, at which point his expression went blank before turning _very_ suspicious. Bucky furrowed his brows and then glanced behind himself, following Steve's pointed gaze, and that was when he saw the tiny scrap of white lace on the floor and cursed himself.

"Is someone... in there?" Steve asked, and Bucky knew there was no sense in lying or even trying to play it off.

"Yes, Steve," he grumbled low enough so only Steve could hear, "and I don't really have time to talk right now."

Steve nodded, flushing slightly with sudden mild embarrassment. "Right, yeah, sorry. Okay. I'll see you later."

Bucky didn't reply as Steve then shuffled off, and once he was more than two steps away from the door, Bucky closed it and locked it again, then let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. If it had been _anyone_ else knocking at the door...

He turned around just as Summer's head popped up from behind the desk. "Are they gone?"

He nodded, finding her adorable in that moment despite the slight terror they'd just endured. "Yeah, we're good now."

"Oh thank God," she sighed with immense relief, getting up to her feet and holding her top over her chest. Her hair was a wreck and she _looked_ like she'd just gotten done being ravished, blush evident on her cheeks and neck and covering even part of her chest too, or at least what he could see of it.

"I'm sorry," he said, walking her way and trying to ignore the rush of new desire he felt just at the sight of her like that. "I don't normally get many people knocking on my door, so I didn't even think about it, or... really... think at all."

She nodded as he came close again, close enough to reach out and touch her hair as she replied, "Yeah, well, me neither. Not a lot of... thinking... happening."

She smiled nervously, looking up at him as if to gauge what he was thinking in that moment while he wondered the same about her. Both of them suddenly terrified that the other regretted what had happened, they stood at an impasse until he decided to be the brave one and say, "I know what I said before, and it's still all true but... I'm glad this happened."

Summer then sagged with even more relief than she'd felt when Steve had gone away. "Oh my God, me too."

He smiled softly, closing the last distance between them and cupping her face before he kissed her again. It was soft and sweet at first, but it grew deeper as she wrapped an arm around his neck and nearly purred into his mouth, dropping her top back to the floor, and he couldn't believe how easy it was to get lost in her. Before he knew it they were kissing like mad again and she was palming softly at his still very prominent need for her, but he took her wrist in his hand and gently eased her hand away as he groaned, "Not here, Summer. This can't happen here."

She whined a little, looking up at him with an actual _pout_. "But... after what you did for me, I want to..."

She was going to be the death of him. "I know, I know, but if somebody really did catch us..."

Summer sighed and nodded, accepting his reasoning but lowering her lips to his neck again anyway. His eyes fluttered shut and he let her run teasing little kisses along his neck, groaning softly when her teeth nipped at the just right spot, and then he gently grasped her hair and pulled her off of him. " _Stop, stop._.."

"Sorry," she smiled, blushing and biting her lip as she relented. He grinned back and leaned down, kissing her again and nearly getting caught up all over again before he tore himself away.

"Okay," he said breathlessly, bending and picking up her tank top from the floor. He handed it to her and she began to put it back on as he said, "We need to talk about all of this, but... not here. I'll call you or text you later, or... something. I've got your number somewhere, so..."

She nodded, pulling the the tank down over herself fully and then peeking up at him through her lashes as she giggled, "I still can't believe this is even real."

He smiled back, also unable to believe it and unsure of what it meant. It had been miserable but simple before, when he knew he couldn't have her and that it would never change, but now that _this_ had happened... what happened next?

There was so much to think about, so much that was unknown that it was overwhelming to even begin to contemplate, so he left those thoughts alone as Summer readied herself to leave. She fixed her clothes, slipped that incriminating pair of panties back on and tried to smooth out her hair as best she could with her fingers, and then smiled when he offered to walk her to the door.

They walked there in silence, and once they reached the door, she turned and gave him that same sweet but still-nervous smile she'd had since they first kissed. It made him feel lighter, made him feel like nothing else mattered and that all the reasons why this was a bad idea seem inconsequential. He could pretend when he looked in her eyes that everything might just be okay, and that he wasn't risking everything by leaning down and kissing her goodbye.

For a man who was used to feeling either nothing or at least not much that was good, feeling so much from a simple little kiss took his breath away. It wasn't just the physical reactions, though those were also brand new to him after an horrifically long dry spell, but the _feelings_ that floated to the surface and left his head feeling fuzzy as they kissed an touched were even more powerful. It was even better than he had imagined it would be with her, and they had _only_ just fooled around a bit. The idea of more was as terrifying as it was incredible, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to truly _have_ her as their kiss goodbye turned into many kisses.

Her fingers were in his hair and her hands on his neck, and her kisses weren't the slightly timid, unsure caresses from earlier. Now she kissed him as he could tell she truly wanted to, hungrily and deeply but sweetly and with little whimpers that she couldn't seem to keep from spilling out. She broke the kiss long after it should have ended, pushing her hips against his a bit as she asked him quietly, "Are you _sure_ you don't need help with... that?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, though she seemed very skeptical. "I'm used to it."

She blinked, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. "Used to... what?"

He shook his head, not willing to get into _that_ right now and ruin the moment. He merely kissed her again, lighter this time, and murmured, "We'll talk later."

"Okay," she smiled, stealing one more kiss before reaching for the door. "Bye, Professor."

He smiled. "I think that you can call me by my name now, at least when we're... alone."

Her hand pausing on the doorknob, her smile widened and she blushed, "Oh, um... okay. Are you sure?"

He laughed a bit breathlessly and pointed out with a slightly devious grin, "Summer, if what we just did doesn't put us on first-name terms, then I don't know what would."

"Yeah, you're right," she smiled in that shy way of hers that he loved. "So... James, then?"

He didn't dislike the way that his first name sounded on her lips, and it was certainly better than just his job title, but something still wasn't quite right about it. He tilted his head in thought and then replied, "Just call me Bucky."

Her face lit up even more. " _Really_? But isn't that, like, a special name that only a few people you're close with call you?"

He shrugged to the affirmative. "Yeah."

Her smile somehow managed to grow even more as he offered no further explanation. Then she glanced down and said, "Okay. Well, then, I'll see you later, _Bucky_."

He smiled more brightly than he had in longer than he could remember. "Bye, Summer."

Grinning like crazy, she opened the door and turned to walk out of it, only to halfway stumble in a typical display of her usual grace. But she caught herself, and she glanced back at him and smiled as he chuckled and shook his head at her clumsiness.

He watched her take a few more steps down the hallway before he tore his eyes away, and that was when he noticed Steve and Natasha standing across the hall in front of another office, talking amongst themselves as they not-so-subtly watched Summer walk away from his office. Then they looked at him, both knowing exactly what had happened without having to ask a single question, and Bucky stared at them with impressively blank and unimpressed eyes before turning and closing his door.

Then he stood there in his office, his back to the door as he stared at the disarray the unexpected encounter with Summer had wrought. A chair was knocked over, his glasses and various papers and other items that had been on his desk were on the floor, and _his_ chair, well... it would likely never be the same. But then again, maybe neither would he.

There were a lot of problems that he had to face now, a lot to think about and a lot to figure out. But he took that quiet moment to himself to grin faintly and touch his lips, not regretting a single thing he'd done with them. He could still feel her lips on his, still taste her on his tongue and hear her trying so hard not to moan that her voice came out sounded like a broken, blissful whimper.

He knew it wouldn't be the last time. Whatever _this_ was, whatever _they_ were, it wasn't over. It was only beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Aaaaaaand now for the third and final part :D I overestimated how long this last part is lol, but anyway, thank you guys so so so SO MUCH for your continued support and reviews, like I seriously love you all and I hope you're all happy with this ending :D There WILL be an epilogue at some point though, so keep this on alert because it'll most likely be the length of an entire fourth part, considering how long winded I am :p But anyway, thank you guys again so much, and let me know what you guys think!**

That night, after spending the entire day in a daze of disbelief and smiling stupidly and nervously through her shift at the library, Summer laid in her bed and bit her lip as she smiled and stared at the phone in her hands. She'd been floating on air all day, and now as she read a text that she'd just received from a number she didn't recognize, all of her anxiety and giddiness gave way to purely warm, fuzzy feelings.

She read the message three times, just to make sure she didn't miss anything. _It's me. If you still want to, I thought I could pick you up tomorrow night and take you out to dinner so we can talk_.

If she still wanted to? Was that even a question? Smiling wider, she rapidly typed out her reply and hit the send button, still unable to believe that he was actually texting her and that all this was real. _I definitely still want to. This_ is _you, isn't it?_

She waited on pins and needles for his reply, and judging by how fast he answered, she had his full attention. _Unless I'm not the only professor you've seduced this week, yeah, this is who you think it is._

She full-on giggled to herself, her cheeks heating up as she replied, _I didn't seduce anyone this week, but okay, I believe you._

A few minutes passed this time before he sent her another message. _Just to be safe, I think we should go out of the city tomorrow. Too many people who could see us here_.

 _Oh okay_ , she replied. _Where did you have in mind_?

 _I know a place_ , came his reply a few moments later. _You're still sure about this?_

She snuggled deeper into her blankets, thumbs typing away. _If you still are_.

His next reply took a bit longer, and her smile returned full force when she read it. _Only thing I know for sure is how much I want to see you again_.

Grin plastered to her face, she answered with, _I'd invite you over but my apartment's a mess and I'm wearing Batman pajamas, so._..

 _You're 24 and you own Batman pajamas_? was his surely-amused reply. She could just imagine the grin he'd probably had as he had typed it out.

 _Yeah but they're the pretty kind. Little tank top and lacy underwear, super comfy, kinda thin too_. She nearly deleted the text about five times before sending it, still unable to believe that she was actually telling her professor what she was _wearing_.

He answered entirely too quickly for his own good. ... _That's not nice, Summer._

 _What? You asked,_ she answered cheekily. Flirting was so much easier when it wasn't in person. Then, her mind on the subject of clothes, she sent him a second text. _How should I dress for where you're taking me tomorrow_?

 _Not too fancy. Just dress how you like. I want you comfortable_ , he replied, and for some reason, she felt even warmer from those words.

 _Okay. When should I expect you?_

A few minutes passed, and then her phone lit up again. _7\. Normally I'd come to your door, but maybe you should just come down when I get there_.

 _No problem_. Maybe it was silly or immature, but the sneaking around factor of what they were doing was as exciting to Summer as it was scary. It might not have been ideal and she wouldn't romanticize the potential consequences, but there was no denying how thrilling it all was.

After sending him her address and working out another detail or two, the conversation started to wind down and Summer's exhaustion started to get the better of her, leaving her messages a little less witty and shorter. When she sensed the talk coming to its end, she yawned and then sent, _Can't wait for tomorrow :)_

She was worried for all of a minute that the smiley face had been too much and too juvenile before he put her mind at ease with his reply. _Me too. See you at 7_.

 _I'll be here_ , she grinned before closing her eyes and dropping her phone on her pillow. Was any of this even real?

She had thought that the conversation was over, but she underestimated her maybe-possibly-potential-new-lover's ability to make her smile like a moron into her pillow. _Goodnight_ , _beautiful_.

The butterflies in her belly and the flutters of her heart either spelled impending doom or imminent bliss, and only time would tell which would be the case.

* * *

Bucky sent Summer his goodnight text with a crooked, quiet grin on his face, and he was momentarily oblivious to Steve sitting next to him on his couch and staring at him with an expression so fretful that he would have made a worried mother jealous.

Bucky glanced up eventually, noticed Steve's angst, and then forced his grin to dissolve as he asked, "What?"

"You _know_ what," Steve replied. "This could end very badly. _Very_ badly. Mostly for you. You know that."

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, that's what you've been telling me the last three hours."

"Yeah, because apparently Nat didn't beat enough sense into you earlier," Steve said, exasperated. "I know you like this girl, Bucky, but have you thought about what this might do to _her_?"

Setting his phone down on his lap for the time being, Bucky clenched his jaw and looked at his best friend somewhat blankly. "Yeah, I think I mentioned that I have, Steve, at least like ten times now."

"And the chances of keeping something like that a secret..."

Bucky sighed again and half-snapped, "Look, I know. Trust me, I know. Do you think I'd be even considering something like this if I wasn't..."

Steve's eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Wasn't _what_?"

"... Serious," Bucky eventually replied. "About her."

Steve shook his head. "No, I don't think that. And that's what scares me."

Bucky looked away and couldn't help but admit somewhat bleakly, "Yeah, me too."

Then his phone vibrated on his leg, and he looked down to read a new text from the girl who was the cause of all of this. _Goodnight, overly young and sickeningly hot professor_.

His smile was instant. Steve didn't try to peek at the text to see what he was grinning at, because he was too busy marveling at how a mutual student of theirs was able to put a real, genuine smile on Bucky's face so easily and quickly.

Bucky glanced over and saw that Steve's expression had turned softer now, not quite accepting but a bit more understanding. After a few more seconds of silence, Steve said, "I haven't seen you smile like this since _before_." He didn't need to add the words _the_ _war_ for Bucky to understand what he meant.

Bucky looked away again, knowing Steve was right and terrified of the implications. But fear had never kept him from leaping into danger before, and he knew deep down that this would be no exception.

"Be careful, Bucky," Steve said, tone utterly serious. "For both your sakes."

Bucky looked up at him again, nodding. "I will."

Steve nodded, then looked away and muttered, "When I go prematurely gray, I'm blaming you. Good God."

Bucky chuckled, glancing down at Summer's text and then biting his lip, thoughts drifting to the next night and what it might possibly hold. He didn't plan on sleeping a single wink.

* * *

Seven o'clock took _forever_ to roll around, but once it did, Summer felt suddenly unprepared and was running through her apartment like a chicken with its head cut off, checking the time incessantly and fake-cursing up a storm.

She changed her outfit five times, her shoes twice, and her hair went up and down more times than she cared to admit, and she wasn't even going to _get into_ why taking a shower had taken a record thirty five minutes. But, miraculously, by the time her phone dinged at exactly seven with the text she'd been waiting all day for, she was mostly ready save for just the very last few touches.

Checking her reflection in her bathroom mirror one last time, she smoothed down her free-flowing, lightly curled hair and then carefully walked in her heels to her bedroom window. She peered out into the parking lot, smiled to herself, and then dashed off.

After grabbing her purse, checking her reflection one last time just _because_ , and then flipping off all of the lights in the apartment, she took a deep breath and then headed out her door and towards her surreal first date with what she considered the very embodiment of forbidden fruit.

She walked carefully down the stairs of the building, very mindful of the tall high heels she was wearing and not wanting to start the night with a trip to the ER. After making it down in one piece, she walked out the final door and then felt her heart leap a bit at the sight of the car waiting for her.

He drove an old vintage sportscar, black and probably expensive in its day and perhaps the current one, but she had thought it suited him perfectly since the first time she'd accidentally spied on him leaving campus one day. On this day, however, she simply kept focused on walking competently and keeping from smiling _too_ widely as she made her way to the passenger side door.

She opened the door and then slid inside as smoothly as she could, her eyes immediately going to the driver and their gazes locking as she sat down and closed the door. They both smiled at each other in an instant, and her brain melted into useless goo at the mere sight of him.

He was dressed nicely but casually, like she was, and the very first thing she noticed was how more buttons than usual were left open on his shirt underneath the dark blue jacket he wore. It was hard to tell from what she could see, but he looked like he was wearing equally dark and very fitted jeans, not that she had much time to look or even think about it at that moment.

His eyes left hers only to flit down over her figure, not stopping until they reached her shoes, then coming back up to meet hers once again. "Hi."

Her smile widened. "Hi."

"You look... perfect," he said softly, and she was pretty sure that if she blushed any harder, she'd morph into an actual strawberry.

She tried to squeak out a half-coherent thank you, but then he was leaning towards her in the small space and she realized that her earlier worry of what the heck a proper greeting would entail had been silly. She'd wondered if they would kiss, hug, or just say hello and then be on their way, but he answered that question with ease as he closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss on her lips that made the butterflies erupt all over again.

Her hand went to his face out of instinct, and when he drew away just far enough to look at her and smile again, she smiled back and then kissed him again, just as softly as he'd kissed her. This time, though, the kiss lingered and grew a little deeper when she parted her lips for him, and he didn't hesitate to slide his fingers into her hair and teasingly brush his tongue against hers. Her hand went to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, and the kiss became as hot and passionate as all the ones from the day before until he put a stop to it.

"I'm sorry," he said, out of breath after he reluctantly pulled away, though they remained close. His eyes on her lips and hand still in her hair, he murmured, "I didn't _just_ come here for this. I don't want you to think I..."

She shook her head. "I don't think that." Her hand left his neck and ended up on his jacket, her palm sliding over one of the lapels as she grinned and added quietly, "You look _really_ good too, by the way."

She _loved_ the little crooked grin he answered her with. Then they were kissing again, and Summer realized they could waste _hours_ like this and she'd be perfectly happy. But they didn't have hours, and after only another moment or two, Bucky broke the kiss again and smiled, "We need to leave."

She nodded, and they kissed only one more time before Bucky finally pulled away fully. Once they had parted, she let out a suddenly shaky breath and felt her heart already pounding in her chest just from a few kisses. She busied herself with getting her seatbelt on, and Bucky waited until she was safely buckled to run a hand through his hair, breathing as if to calm himself, then start pulling out of the parking lot.

Once the car was moving, Summer waited until he had driven them out of the apartment complex and on to the main road before she took a breath and said, "So..."

He glanced over and grinned just slightly. "Yeah?"

"This is actually happening," she pointed out, though saying it out loud didn't make it anymore believable.

"Having second thoughts?"

"Oh God no," she half-giggled. "No, not at all."

"Well, you've got about fifty minutes before we get where we're going," he replied. "You can change your mind if you want to."

"I won't," she assured him. "I've been kinda going crazy looking forward to this all day."

He grinned again and glanced at her to say something, but her phone ringing from inside her purse ruined the moment. She quickly dug it out and then hit the silent button when she saw that it was Darcy calling, but the general problem with Darcy was that she was quite stubborn and she didn't appreciate being ignored. So, after three more calls in a row, Summer muttered an embarrassed apology to her date and answered the phone with a pointedly unamused, "Hello?"

"Oh good, you're not dead," Darcy replied. "Where the hell are you? Tonight was supposed to be movie night, and I show up to find your apartment empty and you nowhere to be found."

 _Oh, crap_. They hadn't been on the road for long, so Darcy must have _just_ missed them. "Oh, man, I totally forgot about that. I'm sorry. I'm kinda..."

"Kinda what?"

"...On a date." Summer felt Bucky look over at her, and she gestured helplessly to the phone.

"With who? Since when do you not tell me these things?"

"Um... I don't know, it was kind of sudden? But I really am sorry, I just spaced it. I gotta go, though."

"He'd better be hot for you to ditch me for him."

Summer smiled and laughed quietly. "Oh he is."

"Awesome. Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, you loser."

"Bye," Summer chuckled, hanging up and then looking at Bucky, who had seemed a bit interested in her conversation. "That was Darcy."

"Lewis," he nodded. "Right."

"She doesn't know," Summer added. "Nobody does. I haven't told anyone."

Something in his expression changed then, flickering as he merged on to the highway and picked up speed. She wondered what was wrong, but he answered her unasked question by saying, "Two people know. I didn't tell them, but they just... knew."

"Oh." She hadn't been expecting that. "Who?"

His expression gave away how fearful he was for her reaction. "Steve and Natasha."

She sat there and stared at him, hoping that he was kidding but knowing that he wasn't. "... My history professor and psych professor know that I'm... um... kind of... _seeing_ my linguistics professor?"

"It's not like that," he assured her, his eyes sincere as he looked at her and away from the road for a second. "I don't have many friends. But I have them, and I've had them a long time. They knew how I felt about you and when they saw you leaving my office yesterday, they just... knew."

Processing all of this, Summer blinked a few times and said, "... But _she's_ terrifying." Then she blinked again. They knew how he _felt_ about her? He had talked to them about her, before anything had even happened between them?

"She's kind of my therapist," he half-grinned. "She won't treat you any differently and neither of them will tell anyone. I just wanted you to know. Seemed unfair if you didn't."

"Yeah, um... thanks," she shrugged. "It's okay, I guess, but it does kind of... freak me out."

He nodded understandingly, frowning out at the road. "I figured it would. But that's why we need to talk through all of this, because there's a lot to think about."

She nodded, having already known this before but really feeling it on a new level now. She really had gotten herself into something that could get incredibly sticky, but damn if it didn't seem every bit worth it every time he so much as looked at her.

The further they got away from the city, the closer she got to deciding her fate. She knew inside, though, that there was really only one choice that she'd ever make.

* * *

The nearly hour long drive felt like it flew by, and before Bucky knew it, they were in the small town outside of the city that he had decided was safe enough to take her out to. He didn't know anyone here and neither did she, but he did know a tiny little Italian restaurant that they could have their talk in and be left alone as they figured out what to do.

He drove the car smoothly into a parking spot at the back of the restaurant, glancing at her as he turned off the car and pocketed his keys. She smiled at him but he could see the anxiety written on her face, and he couldn't help but ask one more time, "You're still sure?"

She laughed in exasperation. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here."

He nodded, not arguing with her. Then he opened his door, got out of the car and quickly loped around it to open her door for her. The look on her face as he took her hand to help her out served as proof that no man had ever done that for her before, and he thought that was just ridiculous.

"Thank you," she smiled after he helped her to her feet, and he took the moment to look her over fully for the first time since he'd picked her up. He liked that her hair was down, and he had been able smell the scent of it since she had first gotten in the car. It called to his fingers, tempting them to bury themselves within the dark tresses right then and there, but he reined himself in. Her dark blue top was long and loose and flattering, not to mention a match for his own clothes, and the deep V of the neckline gave a just teasing peek of what laid beneath. Then there was the black pants that fit her legs like a glove, the long lines of them leading down to black, strappy and tall high heels that held his gaze for longer than he realized.

By the time he looked up again, his blue eyes meeting her even bluer ones, she was smiling to herself like she knew something he didn't.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I just... you like high heels, don't you?"

He grinned and replied playfully, "What gave you _that_ idea?"

She smiled again, and he grasped her hand that he was still holding more tightly and turned to lead her inside of the restaurant. After all, after seeing her trip and fall so many times, it was only the right thing to do.

Getting inside and getting a table was easy and quick, thanks to how small and mostly empty the place was. It smelled good though, _very_ good, and the interior had the feel of a family-owned, warm kind of place that was far better for that night than any well-known, crowded place would have been.

They were led to a small, candlelit table near the back, in the most private corner of the whole place. He let go of Summer's hand so that she could take her seat, and when he took his across from her, he realized for the first time that night that he was just as nervous as she was, if not more so.

Their server came before they could say a single meaningful word about anything, and he ordered the first thing that he saw on the menu, not really caring about what he actually ate. It was the last thing on his mind, but he did appreciate the server, an older lady with warm brown eyes, bringing them the bottle of red wine that he'd asked for before he'd even seen the menu.

After the lady poured them both full glasses of the wine, she left and Bucky watched Summer take an immediate and rather large drink of hers. After she set it down, she explained needlessly, "I'm nervous."

"I can tell," he grinned, taking a smaller sip of his own wine.

"So... where do we even start?" she asked, and he appreciated that she didn't want to put it off or dance around the reality of it all.

"Well..." he sighed, wondering how to answer her question. He had been thinking and obsessing over what to do and what to say to her nonstop, and now that the moment was here, it took him a few minutes to figure out how to begin. "I guess first I should probably ask you what you want from me."

"...What I want from you?" she repeated, tilting her head just a fraction.

He nodded. "Yeah. If you just want more of what we did yesterday or if you want... more than that."

"Oh," she replied, understanding. "You mean do I want casual or do I want a..."

"Relationship," he finished for her.

Her fingers fiddling nervously with the stem of her wine glass, she took a moment to think before asking, "What do _you_ want?"

He saw no reason to be anything but honest. "I've had a lot of chances for casual things, Summer, and it's just... it's not what I want. But I'd take it if that's all that you're ready for. I'd understand."

She seemed a bit surprised by that. She stared down at her wine glass as she took a breath and said, "Well, I mean... it's been a really long time since I've been with... anyone. And I don't mean just serious relationships. I mean _anything_."

He nodded. "Same for me."

"But I mean like... five years," she said, looking at him cautiously as if she feared his reaction. "So if you think I have like... the slightest idea what I'm doing, I really don't."

"I don't either."

"But I'm sure you have... you know... experience," she said, and he could _see_ how uncomfortable she was talking about this. "I've only had one real boyfriend my whole life, and he was a jerk. I hardly even remember what it's like to actually... you know... be with someone."

He stared at her in sudden bewilderment and asked, " _How_ have you only had one boyfriend?"

"Um... well, for one, I'm picky," she said, listing off the reasons with her fingers. "And the guys I've liked never seem to like me back, or they're gay, which has happened more than once. But mainly these last five years there was just... a lack of time and opportunity, I guess. Plus the jerk I mentioned messed me up pretty bad, so..."

"High school idiot?" he guessed, and she nodded.

"I was with him for two years. He was my first... everything. But he was controlling and mean and just... yeah," she shrugged. "If I told you _that_ story, we'd be here all night. After I finally left him, my grandma got sick and I put college off to take care of her."

"You an only child?" he asked.

"No, I have a brother. But he's older than me and got this huge scholarship to an Ivy League school when he graduated, so it was just me there when she got sick. She really wanted me to go to college though, so she made me start taking classes back home while I helped her. Then when she died, she left me enough money to pay for the rest of my education, which is how I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She nodded. "Yeah, it was hard. She raised me, so... I miss her a lot." She paused, then chuckled, "She'd kill me if she knew about this."

He smiled, not doubting her in the least. "Should I be worried about your brother?"

She shook her head, eyes widening. " _No_. I am definitely not telling him any time soon." Then she looked at him and got a bit of a curious glint in her eye. "How come _you've_ been single for so long? I mean... _how_?"

He smiled. "By choice. Haven't really been interested in trying to date or... get to know anyone. Until now."

He could tell how little she believed him. "You're either lying or just... I don't even know."

"Well, I'm not lying," he grinned. "I don't think I've taken a girl out to dinner in... I don't know. I honestly can't remember."

"Just... nobody caught your eye?" she guessed, taking another healthy sip of wine.

He nodded. "That and... other reasons. I wasn't myself for a long time, after..." He trailed off, inwardly surprised that he had actually begun to mention the war. He never spoke of it to anyone outside of a very tight circle.

"After... you got back?" she guessed, and he nodded. "How long were you over there?"

He took a deep, steadying breath and told himself that he could do this, and speak to her of those days. "Couple tours. I joined when I was 18 and got my degrees paid for through the military, but then things happened and..." he shrugged. "I don't normally talk about it."

"You don't have to," she quickly assured him, entirely genuine. "I understand."

He nodded, but frowned and replied, "I think I should, though."

"Only if you want to," she replied quietly.

He nodded again, taking his time as he gathered his words in his head. "Do you remember a couple years ago on the news, there was a huge story about an American hostage that was rescued from terrorists in Iraq?"

"... Oh, um... Jessica... something?"

He nodded. "Jessica Richards. She was a journalist they grabbed and held hostage for about a month."

"Yeah," she nodded. "And there was a big raid and they saved her and found some kids and women the terrorists had captured, too?"

"Yeah, they were using human trafficking to fund their operations," he replied.

"Were you a part of the rescue?" Summer asked.

He shook his head, casting his eyes downwards. "Not... exactly. I was captured with her."

"Oh." Her single word came out as quiet as a whisper, and the sudden horror on her face was unmistakable.

His heart rate was rising already, and his hands were fidgeting shakily in his lap, but he thought it best to get the story out now so he never had to mention it again. "She was part of a news crew following my unit around, and we got ambushed one day on our way back from delivering supplies to one of the villages. They killed her whole crew and grabbed her. Then they grabbed me, which... it wasn't really their usual MO to kidnap soldiers, but they... had their reasons. They knocked me out and I woke up with her in some... hellhole. I don't know what else to call it."

Summer was watching him unblinkingly and hanging on his every word, but he mostly stared at the table or the salt shaker sitting nearby as he went on. "Anyway... we don't negotiate with terrorists, so I knew we were both dead. They made a video with her, which you probably remember from the news." Summer nodded, and he added, "They didn't try to use me as a hostage, because they knew it would never work, that we don't work like that. So they just... used me to test out some old weapons they found from the old regime."

"... Test?" she asked, voice small.

He nodded, swallowing and just trying to get through the story. "Yeah, to see if they still worked. They did. I was there for a week. Neither of us were supposed to be rescued."

"But you were," she pointed out.

He nodded. "Yeah, because Steve went against orders and got some guys from our unit to come with him for a rescue mission."

"... Oh my God," Summer said, in a perpetual state of horror mixed with awe thanks to the story.

"Idiot almost got himself killed," Bucky muttered. "But he pulled it off. Found the girl, found the kids and the women, and found me half dead. I don't remember any of it."

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "The terrorists didn't know that I spoke Arabic, and the day Steve came for us, I heard three of them saying how they were going to... take turns with her before they killed her the next day," he said, almost breaking into a sweat and feeling his breathing become less and less even the more the spoke. "They kept us in the same cell, so when they came for her, I tried to fight them. They beat me, dragged me into the room they did their 'tests' in, and..."

"You really don't need to say any more if you don't want to," she quickly assured him, more than aware of how hard it was for him to recount the story.

He nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Steve thought I was dead when he found me. I lost a lot of blood and my arm was..." He swallowed and shook his head. "I think I woke up about a week later, in Berlin at our base there. Steve was there, and he told me that since his rescue had been a success, the Army was saying it had been their plan and they were quietly discharging him instead of kicking him out or court martialing him. He got medals and stuff, got to meet the President and all of that. They let me out at the same time, to come home and recover, so I came home with him."

"They shouldn't have taken credit for what he did," Summer noted, but Bucky merely shrugged.

"No, and Steve won't stay quiet about that forever," Bucky replied. "He's waiting because he doesn't want to undermine the guys still over there."

"Oh. Makes sense," she replied quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah, so... I got home about three years ago. I was a mess. I stayed with Steve and never left his apartment, didn't really eat, didn't... do anything. Didn't get a haircut for about a year," he said, forcing a tense chuckle. "I got into fights when I _did_ go out and I drank too much and just... I wasn't there. He did everything he could to help me but he had his own problems too, so... it took time. He found a support group and started going alone because I wouldn't go, but eventually he dragged me there. It helped a lot more than I thought it would. He found his job at the university a couple months after that, which was when he introduced me to Natasha. I didn't like any therapist I talked to until her. She helped me a _lot_. She still does. Then when a job I was qualified for opened up, they recommended me, and... I've been there for a little over a year now."

"Wow," Summer marveled quietly. "I seriously had no idea about... I never even imagined you went through anything like _that_. Did you meet him - Professor Steve - over there?"

"No, I've known him my whole life," he replied. "He risked everything to save me. The ironic thing is, it was always me trying to keep him out of trouble and watch his back. He joined up right after I did and I was so mad at him."

"Well, good thing he did, then," Summer said quietly. Bucky nodded back, and the sudden somber mood that had fallen was shaken by their food finally arriving.

He didn't feel much like eating after recalling all of that, and he didn't so much as look at his plate after the server had left them alone once again. There was one more thing he needed to say to her before the night went on.

"I told you all of that because I want you to know what you're getting into," he said quietly as she looked up from her own plate to meet his gaze. "I'm not... normal. I'm not always okay and I'm lucky if I can sleep five hours a night. So it's not _just_ the fact that I'm your professor that makes me hesitate. It's _everything_."

It took her some time to answer, and he spent those moments on the proverbial edge of his seat, waiting for her to say something and hoping that she would still be interested in him even after everything he'd told her. When she did finally speak, she was quiet and unquestionably sincere.

"Well... see, after everything you just told me, that just makes me want to get to know you even more," she told him, and a wave of relief washed over him. "I had 'normal' before and he was horrible to me. I don't care about normal. But _you_... you're amazing."

Though his spirits soared at those words and the little smile on her face, he had to remind her of the reasons why it was still a terrible idea. "If anyone found out, it would follow us for the rest of our lives. You know that, right? I'll risk it for myself, but you're young and you've got such a bright future ahead. You can't underestimate how much this could hurt you."

She nodded. "I'm not. Mostly I'm just worried about what would happen to you, especially after what you just told me. I don't want to ruin your new career."

He almost smiled, because he was mostly concerned for _her_ rather than himself. "I can't guarantee that nobody will ever find out, no matter how careful we are."

"I know," she replied quietly.

"We'd have to act completely normal in class," Bucky said. "All it takes is one look or one word to start a rumor."

She nodded. "Yeah."

"If the other students found out, you'd be a laughingstock," he told her bluntly. "They'd call you a whore and nobody would think you earned any of your grades, not just in my class."

She wasn't fazed. "I know."

He stared at her. "And you're still willing to... try?"

A tiny smile spread across her lips as she replied, "As long as you still are."

A long moment passed where they remained like that, their eyes locked and her smiling as he stared back at her with a mixture of surprise, admiration, and more affection than even he had known was there before. He didn't answer her with words. Instead, he smiled back at her, and it was one of the most genuine smiles he could remember giving anyone since coming back home.

They had both made their decisions. And there was no going back now.

* * *

Following that very serious, emotionally charged dinner, Summer thought it would be best to lighten the mood and spend the ride back to the city doing something that would hopefully not bring up any traumatic memories and maybe bring about a laugh or two. Thirty minutes down the highway, she was pretty sure that her idea had been a success.

"My favorite color?" he repeated, squinting at the road a bit. "Um... I don't know. Blue, I guess."

"Okay," she said, thinking up another question. "Hmm... favorite... movie."

"That's a hard one," he replied, glancing over at her. "I like older movies. I don't know if I can name just one. What about you?"

"Uh..." she smiled. "Man, I don't know either, actually. Lord of the Rings, maybe... Star Wars, Star Trek, Star anything."

"Not Batman?" he asked, a knowing little glint in his eye. He still hadn't forgotten about that text, apparently.

"Oh, well, that too, _of course_ ," she grinned. "Just not the one with George Clooney and the Bat-nipples."

"I must have missed that one," he chuckled.

"It was bad," she shuddered. "Okay, next question. Favorite drink?"

"... Does coffee count?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yeah. Same here."

"All right, my turn," he said, and she gladly let him take over the questions. He shot her a _look_ and asked, "Favorite class?"

"Oh no you don't," she giggled, shaking her head. "That's not even a fair question."

He grinned. "Well, I was _going_ to ask favorite sex position, just to know in the future. but that seemed a little too... direct?"

She was glad that the car was dimly lit and that he couldn't see her instant blush as she floundered momentarily. "Um... no, that's not too direct, _considering_ , but the only problem is that I can't really answer that because... you know... you probably have to actually _try_ some positions first, and since I haven't..."

She watched the amusement on his face give way to sudden concern as he looked over at her and asked, "Do you mean you've never..."

It took her a moment to grasp what he was asking her, and then she smiled and half-exclaimed, "No, no! I'm not a virgin. What I meant was, my ex was very boring and only did things one way, so I never got to... try... anything besides just... laying there."

He grimaced a little. "Doesn't sound like much fun."

"Not at all. And he didn't know what he was doing, so I never..." she trailed off uncomfortably, shrugging.

His eyes shot to her once more. " _Never_?" When she shook her head, he asked, "So _nobody_ ever did it for you?"

Face utterly on fire, she squeaked, "Until yesterday, no. Unless you count myself, but..." she cringed and shut up.

He almost drove into the other lane thanks to how intently he was staring at her. When he turned back to the road and jerked them back into the center of their own lane, he blinked and muttered, "Fuck."

She smiled and felt another jolt of _something_ at hearing him curse again. "Yeah, so... anyway." She cleared her throat. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah, one more," he said, tone going back to his more normal sound. "When we get back into town, do you want to go home, or... maybe come back to my place for awhile?"

She was in awe of how one simple question could make her nearly spontaneously combust on the spot. Clearly, there was only one answer to give. "Your place."

He nodded, and they shared one last look that sent another thrill through her belly before he turned his eyes back to the road.

The rest of the way there, Summer was nearly shaking with excitement. They were really doing this, and it wasn't just a casual affair or some emotionless mutual meeting of physical needs. He _really_ wanted her, in every sense of the word, and he liked all of the qualities in her that she thought made her unattractive to most men. And she realized after hearing his story over dinner just how huge this was for him, to get close to anyone at all. This was a big deal for the both of them, and it made everything all the more thrilling and meaningful.

His place ended up being an apartment that was considerably nicer than hers, though not outrageously so. It was on the other side of the city compared to her place, but the slightly fast way that he was driving got them there in what seemed like a flash. Or maybe that was just because of how badly she wanted to get there.

Once they arrived and he parked, he jumped out of the car so fast it was almost blinding in order to open her door for her again. She smiled just as stupidly as she had the first time he had helped her out of the car, and once again their hands were linked as he locked the car and guided her into his building.

He lived on the top floor, four sets of stairs up, and he didn't let go of her hand once as she made the trek up in her heels. The burn wasn't too bad by the time they made it to his door, and once they were there, he surprised her by hesitating before going in.

"Just so you know, I don't have any... expectations, bringing you back here," he said quietly, searching her eyes as he said this. "I'm not like that. So don't feel any pressure to... do anything."

"Okay," she smiled. He smiled back, and then she briefly looked down at their still-joined hands before asking, "Although... what if I _wanted_ to... do... something?"

His smile turned slightly more predatory as his eyes dropped down her body before flashing back up. She thought he was going to answer her, but instead he opened the door and then reached in to flick on the light before gesturing for her to walk in first. She did as he instructed, stepping inside and looking around at what turned out to be a much more modern and better decorated apartment than she had initially expected.

"Whoa," she said, looking around as he walked in behind her and closed the door. The living room was small but it looked like one out of a furniture catalog, all black leather and a fairly large flat screen TV mounted on the wall, sleek coffee table and little accents here and there that really didn't seem all that much like his style. "This is nice."

"This," he said as he shed his jacket, "is not me. This is what Natasha did after I lived here three months without buying furniture."

"Oh," she smiled. "That makes sense."

He took her purse from her hands, setting it down on a small table against the wall near the door, and then she began slowly wandering through the apartment as he followed quietly behind her. Most of the furnishings and accents were impersonal, but she was drawn to a small mantle in the living room where there were a handful of framed pictures.

Bucky followed her to the pictures, and as her gaze fell upon the first one, which was of himself and Steve when they were much younger, he explained, "And those are from Steve. He got these made my first birthday after we came home. Trying to remind me of life before the war and stuff."

They looked like teenagers in the first one, both of them baby-faced, and Summer half-gasped, "He looks so... _small!"_

"Yeah... he wasn't always 'Captain America'," he joked.

"What did he do, overdose on steroids?" she asked in alarm, moving her eyes to the second picture. It was from college graduation, and they were all smiles, older, not quite as young looking. Then, in the third, which was a picture of them and a handful of other guys, they were in their Army uniforms in front of a desert and still smiling but with a marked difference in their eyes that only came with truly growing up and seeing too much.

"That was _before_ ," Bucky said, gesturing to the last picture. "We'd just shipped out a month before this was taken."

He looked the same and yet entirely different in the photos, but that was okay. She was still in awe that he was still standing after all that he had been through, so she turned away from his history and turned towards the man that he was, standing behind her and looking a bit uneasy.

"I'm guessing you don't let people in like this very often," she said quietly. They were close, just a step or two of space between them.

"Just about never," he replied. "I'm not used to this."

"If it makes you feel better, neither am I," she smiled, wanting to reach out and touch him but for some reason not. She was on his turf now and she didn't want to overstep or... something. It didn't make a lot of sense, but she hadn't been over to a man's apartment like this since... well, never.

He mustered up a smile back, looking her over and letting his eyes linger on her shoes. "Do your feet hurt?"

She shook her head. "No." He gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, I'm in excruciating pain."

He chuckled and then took her hand, guiding her to sit down on the couch. He sat rather closely next to her, and without a word, he reached down and lifted one of her ankles to start slowly removing her shoe. For some reason, though it seemed like an entirely innocent and caring gesture, Summer found herself blushing and fidgety as took off the first shoe, then set her leg back down to work on the other.

"Better?" he asked as he dropped the second shoe to the floor, and the sigh that she gave as she exhaled in relief was all the answer he needed.

"Those things are horrible," she groaned.

He nodded, his hand now resting lightly on her knee. "Sexy as hell, though."

She looked at him and smiled a little shyly, nowhere near being used to being called sexy by anyone, let alone him. "Well, that _was_ what I was going for."

"Was that why you wore those other heels to class that one time?" he asked, putting his other arm behind her on the back of the couch.

She glanced down at his hand, moving lazily up and down a few inches above her knee now, then met his gaze again and said, "So you _did_ notice that."

He nodded, eyes briefly dropping to her lips. "Kind of hard not to when you tripped in front of the whole class, but... yeah, I would have noticed them anyway."

She cringed at the memory and dropped her head back, forgetting his arm was there and ending up resting her head upon it. "That was horrible. And then I walked into a wall in front of you later that day. I wanted to die."

His hand left her leg, and she felt his fingertips on the tip of her chin, turning her face towards his. "Well, you sure know how to get a guy's attention."

He was much closer now, his fingers now caressing her cheek, and she replied, "Oh yeah. I bet you thought I was just super hot stumbling around like an idiot."

"Actually," he said, leaning in close enough for his nose to brush hers, "yes, I did."

Then he kissed her for the first time since she had first gotten into his car several hours before, and with just that one simple touch, the fire between them came roaring back. It was instant, and it made his single, gentle kiss grow swiftly into many more much deeper ones, until their hands were grasping at one another and they were making out like teenagers on his couch. Funny thing was, though, that she'd never kissed anyone like _that_ when she had actually been a teenager.

He strayed to her neck when they both needed to break for air, but he never stayed away from her lips for long and as soon as she had caught her breath, he would steal it all over again. It was far slower than what had happened in his office, exploratory and sweet where that had been rushed and frantic, and she learned what he was like when he was able to take his time, which was patient and _lethal_.

He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, hands sliding up and down her legs, sides, back, anywhere he could reach, teeth nipping and tongue teasing and voice increasingly rough every time he'd groan as result of her own touch. She was slowly trying to work her way down the buttons on his shirt, but she was often distracted by his hands drifting up under her shirt or rubbing teasingly high up her inner thighs, her clothes in the way but not going anywhere yet.

She stayed afloat and mostly in control until he broke what had been the latest of many kisses, then drew away a few inches and gazed down at her as they both panted softly in the short distance between them. She opened her eyes and met his gaze for the all of two seconds she could manage before it became too much, and when she leaned up to kiss him again, his hand that had been softly carding through her hair suddenly grasped it and _pulled_ it, yanking her head back and stopping her lips from touching his. She moaned the moment it happened, her eyes flying open as he relaxed his fist and then grinned down upon her in delight.

"Thought you'd like that," he murmured, and just like that, something within her shifted and she pushed him against the back of the couch, then climbed on his lap with a new and hungry fervor.

He stared up at her in heavy lidded desire as both pairs of hands went to the bottom of her top. He helped her push it up and off of her, dropping it to the floor next to her shoes, and then she was pressing herself against him, her fingers buried in his hair as she kissed him hard and let her hips grind down into his lap. He moaned into the kiss, his hands dropping to her hips and grasping them tightly, encouraging her movements, and she knew that she could fall apart just like that, if she really wanted to.

But she didn't. It had been so long for the both of them, and as much as she was enjoying herself, she knew they could both enjoy themselves more. So, reining her own urges in, she broke the kiss and stilled her hips, her hands pushing him back when he tried to tug her back to his chest. He stared at her in confusion until she explained herself.

"I don't want to do this on your couch," she said, surprised by the low and breathless tone of her voice. "... Take me to bed?"

She hadn't meant to say it as a question, but that was how it came out. Bucky replied by kissing her again, groaning and not protesting one bit, so she took it as a yes and broke away before haphazardly scrambling off of his lap and to her feet. She didn't trip or stumble, however, and he was up and leading her out of the living room in the same breath.

There was a small hallway leading to his bedroom, and they kissed and half-stumbled their way through it until they finally made it inside the room. Having been walked backwards into it, Summer ended their kiss to turn around and get a look at her new surroundings, and he immediately began kissing down her neck from behind as she looked around. His bed was bigger than hers but the room was small, just a dresser against the wall and a small table next to the bed, and a window that was closed and hidden by dark blue curtains. She lost interest in the room when he nipped and licked at a particularly sensitive place near the base of her neck, and his hand went to her back as hers went to his hair to hold him closer.

One flick of his fingers later, he proved that he hadn't forgotten how to remove a bra as hers was slid from her shoulders and tossed near their feet. One of his hands immediately slid around to grasp at her now-exposed breasts, but the other snuck downwards into the front of her pants as she turned her head so that they could kiss. She almost hadn't noticed where his hand had ventured until he was suddenly touching her, and she had no shame in dropping her head on to his shoulder and whimpering.

Later she'd wonder if he was one of those ambidextrous types, judging by the different kinds of teasing both of his hands were doing on two very different parts of her body, but her mind was blissfully blank as she gave in and let him do what he wished to her.

"Can you do something for me?" he murmured against her ear, fingers working steadily faster the louder her sounds became. She made an incoherent but affirmative sound in reply, and he replied in a way that made her shiver all over, "Be as loud as you wanted to be in my office."

"But... neighbors," she argued weakly, and he responded by grabbing her around the waist with his free arm and turning her to face him, then slamming her to the nearest wall.

She gasped in surprise, and then his forehead was against hers and his fingers were moving again, even more insistently, making her gasp again for an entirely different reason. "I don't care about them. I _know_ you're loud, Summer. Don't hold back on me."

 _She_ hadn't known that she was "loud" until that very week, but she knew that he was right, and there had never been even a chance that she wouldn't give in. He pressed her harder to the wall, her chest pressed to his through his half-open shirt and his mouth on hers, driving her insane as he brought her to the brink with his hand alone, and she held on to him for dear life as she fell apart. She _didn't_ hold back on him, and the volume of her voice in her own ears would have shocked her had she been capable of anything but succumbing to the almost effortless pleasure he'd brought upon her.

A few long moments passed as she came back to herself, and when she did, he was pressing light, sweet kisses to her jaw, cheekbone, and temple. She hugged him to herself, still breathing heavily as he kissed her forehead and then murmured, "That was perfect."

She couldn't help but laugh, still feeling a little goofy following her release. "But you didn't even... you know... with me."

He smiled as if that was just a little inconsequential detail, then kissed the tip of her nose. "Doesn't matter. I'd be happy watching you come all day long."

She groaned, cheeks burning, then brought her fingers to his shirt, finally finishing unbuttoning the damn thing. When she undid the last button, she tried to push the shirt from his shoulders, but he stiffened in a way that even she could notice despite her still-hazy mind.

Her eyes flashed up to his, and her hands stilled the minute she saw his sudden unreadable expression. She was confused until she remembered his left arm, which she was technically not supposed to know about yet.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm sorry. It's just..."

"Just what?" she asked gently, her hand trailing down his chest. When he still hesitated, she urged him, "Tell me."

He took her hand in his, taking it off of his chest as he paused and then slowly eased them away from the wall. She followed him towards the bed, and he led her to sit down on it first, before he sat next to her and looked at her with slight trepidation in his eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed as if he couldn't quite get any words out. Then he snapped it shut and, with a look of sudden determination on his face, he reached his hands up to each side of the shirt and then pulled it off of his arms. Then he looked at Summer, dread and anxiety in his eyes, but she was too busy staring at his left arm to notice.

The glimpse that she had caught of the arm at the gym several months before had been quick and fleeting, but now she saw the full extent of the damage that the limb had taken. It took her breath away.

She reached out to touch the arm, and he _almost_ flinched away simply out of instinct, but he didn't. She touched the top of his shoulder first, running her eyes along the seam of scars that ran in jagged lines where the shoulder met his chest. It looked like someone had splashed some kind of chemical on him or maybe tried to force him into a container of it, due to the way that the scars and marks were spread out there. The scars covered the entire arm, fading only where his wrist gave way to his hand, and she traced the length of the limb with careful fingertips.

Then she looked up into his eyes, and that was when she realized how hard it was for him to do this. He looked nervous and uncomfortable and nothing like how she wanted him to look when they were both half naked.

"Hey," she said softly, still touching the arm, "it's okay. It doesn't bother me." When he didn't seem convinced, she placed both of her hands on either side of his face and told him, "All that arm tells me is how strong you are. That's what I see when I look at it. You should be proud of it, and of what you've survived."

He stared at her like she had been the first to ever say anything remotely like that to him, and for all she knew, maybe she was. He searched her eyes, maybe to look for insincerity or hidden discomfort, but there was nothing of the sort to be found.

But she did have one question, and she asked it as she gently traced two of her fingers down the inside of his forearm. "Can you still feel... things?"

He nodded, turning his head to watch her touch his arm. "A little. Thirty, forty percent of normal sensation. There was a lot of nerve damage. They said I was lucky I didn't lose the whole arm."

Her fingers moved down to his hand, which compared to the arm it was attached to, looked normal and matched his other. He turned his palm up for her, and she slid her hand to it as she asked, "Did your hand not get hurt too, or..."

"No, it did. It just accepted the skin grafts they gave me. The rest of my arm rejected everything."

She lifted his hand up, and now that she was examining it up close, she could see the much more faint and subtle scarring upon it as well. Some of the lines on his palm weren't supposed to be there, and there were marks between his fingers and on the heel of his hand leading to his wrist.

Without a second thought, she brought his hand to her lips and placed a sweet, small kiss to the center of his palm. He watched her do this, then slid the hand into her hair when she let go. Her eyes locked with his, she stood up from the bed and stood between his legs, and he stared up at her like she was some kind of goddess that he wasn't worthy to look upon.

She leaned down and kissed his lips, placing both of her hands on each of his shoulders and running them down his arms, paying equal amounts of attention to both. His hands went to her waist, then slid down to her hips and began finally removing the pants that she still wore. When their kiss ended, she straightened up and his mouth went to her stomach, laying hot and increasingly open-mouthed kisses on her skin, all while he dragged down the rest of her clothes, including her underwear, and helped her step out of them.

Before she knew it, she was fully naked before him for the first time, and he ceased his kisses for a moment to lean back and soak her in with his eyes. She couldn't stop the sudden wave of anxiety that washed over her, but his hands held her hips firmly and she wouldn't have run away even if she could have.

He didn't say a word until he looked up into her eyes, locked their gazes together and then stood up. Leaning in close and gently touching her face, he murmured just before stealing a kiss, "You're so beautiful."

She melted from those words, but not just because of the words themselves. He said them with such meaning and he had already showed so much trust in her that night, and as he kissed her, she was overcome by the sudden and overwhelming urge to show him the same care and affection that he had showed her.

And so, rather than him laying her down in his bed, it was she who broke their kiss and gently eased him back on to the sheets and crawled on top of him, while he stared up at her with wide and unabashedly adoring eyes. He made her feel like the center of the very universe, and she had never felt like that once before in her entire life.

If it was the last thing she ever did, she was going to make this night _amazing_ for him.

* * *

He couldn't remember the last time he had laid in a bed underneath a beautiful, naked woman, let alone one who enchanted him the way that this one did without even trying. Her lips were on his neck and one of her hands were at his belt, slowly undoing it and bringing them closer to something that he wasn't sure he could even do, but he was helpless to stop her. He didn't _want_ to stop her. He needed this, more than he needed anything else in the entire world, at least in those moments.

He could sense how nervous she was, but it was okay because her determination overwhelmingly outweighed her anxiety. When she had unfastened his jeans after a brief one-handed struggle, she slipped that same hand underneath the fabric and then brought her lips back to his as she touched him, and it was as sweet of a relief as it was terrifying.

He knew that it had been a long time for her, so it came as no surprise that it took her a few moments to get a feel for him and what she was doing. But once she did, she had him groaning and rocking against her in less time than it took his brain to catch up and remind him that he was treading dangerous waters. He ignored those thoughts, though, especially once her mouth left his to start trailing sensually down his neck, then his chest, and then lower.

Everything was blur as she took off the rest of his clothes, throwing them somewhere and then continuing her warm, sweet kisses right where she had left off, which was his along his lower abdomen and growing ever closer to where her hand was again slowly teasing him. His right hand was in her hair, the other hand running through his own, and their eyes met when she peeked up at him with both innocence and the very _opposite_ of innocence that it was mind boggling. He was anxious, anticipating what he knew was coming next with both desperation and dread, but the moment he was engulfed by the perfect warmth of her mouth, everything else ceased to exist.

For a few long, almost otherworldly moments, he thought that he might just be okay. Like before, it took her a few moments to get the hang of what she was doing after being out of practice for so long, but once she got it... he could have sworn that he'd never felt anything so good his whole life, and certainly not since long before everything had gone to hell a few years back.

His voice was hoarse with moans and sounds that he was only half-aware that he was making by the time he felt himself climbing towards something that he hadn't reached in far too long. But with that sensation came a sudden sense of panic, and though he tried his best to fight it and just give in, he simply could not. His fist tightened in Summer's hair and he gently pried her off of him, voice breathless and a little broken as he begged, " _Stop, stop, please stop."_

She obeyed immediately, but she looked confused and he knew why. His face was pinched and his eyes panicked, but he tried to hide it and just cover by pulling her back up so he could kiss her. She still looked a little lost but he turned on his side to face her and focused on kissing the hell out of her until she forgot all about it.

She didn't, though, and her hand almost immediately slid between them to get back to working on what her mouth had been working towards before he'd interrupted her. He was back on that precipice in seconds, and this time as the panic bloomed anew, he broke their kiss and physically grabbed her wrist to move her hand away, again telling her to stop even though it was really the last thing he wanted her to do.

This time, the confusion in her eyes became clear and obvious _hurt_ , and it made his heart drop and shame start prickling at the back of his mind as he realized that he was screwing this up, possibly _very_ badly.

"I'm sorry," she said, holding up her hand in surrender and stiffening up, not quite meeting his eyes. "I, um... it's been a long time so I know I suck, I was just... trying."

His eyes flew to hers in sudden bewilderment, and he knew the bright blush on her face was one of deep embarrassment and not anything good. She glanced up at him and then looked away, looking as if she was ready to _cry_ at any moment, and he realized that there was only one way to fix this, though it wouldn't be easy.

"No, no, _God_ no, Summer," he quickly assured her, turning her face back towards his. "You were good, you were _really_ good. You're amazing."

She blinked up at him. "Then why did you...?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, having known that this was going to become an issue sooner or later. He had just been hoping for later.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly at his obvious distress.

Groaning in quiet misery, he took a few moments to gather his wits before uttering four words that he had grown to despise with an incredible passion, as any other man would. "I have a problem."

Some of the hurt had left her eyes by then, confusion back to being the dominant thing in her eyes. "A problem?"

He nodded. "Ever since I got back, yeah."

"Okay," she replied cautiously. "What... kind?"

He couldn't quite look her in the eyes as he said this, so he fixed his eyes on her stomach as he muttered, "I can't really... ever... let go enough to..."

She stared at him in deep concentration until her eyes widened with sudden understanding. " _Oh_." Then she paused. "... _Ever_?"

He grimaced, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "Not really. I always... I get this feeling like... I don't know how to explain it."

"You can tell me," she assured him, her hand going to his chest in a soothing gesture.

He didn't want to, but he saw no other possible choice. "Ever since... everything happened... I can't do it because I feel like I'm losing control, or just... I don't know. I panic and I... can't."

"Even just by yourself?" she asked. He looked at her and shook his head. "So... for three years, you haven't once..."

"Nothing that counts," he said, his own embarrassment rising up and making his ears feel like they were burning. This was not the kind of conversation _any_ man ever wanted to have while in bed with a girl they had been fantasizing about ravishing for weeks, yet here they were.

"It's okay," she said, her hand sliding up his chest to touch his face. She leaned closer, kissing his jaw and then adding, "Maybe I can help you."

He looked at her a bit helplessly, wanting to believe that she could but not sure after so long of nothing helping. "I don't know."

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her leg sliding between his and her thumb tracing over his jaw. He nodded, and she added, "Then just... trust me with this, too."

She was asking a lot, and they both knew it, but he needed it so badly that he nodded instantly and didn't think twice. He closed his eyes as she leaned in and kissed him, and because the conversation had served as the world's biggest buzzkill and the current state of his body proved it, Summer then took her time in working him up all over again.

It didn't take her long. She kissed him until she felt some of the tension leave his muscles, and only then did she let her hands start to wander again. She stuck to the safer places, kissing his neck and shoulders, including his left one, where she kissed and touched the scarred flesh like it was no different from that of his other arm. Soon she was on top of him again, sitting above his hips and running her hands up and down his chest, tongue tangling with his and pulling soft groans from his throat. It wasn't long until his blood was pumping hard again, breaths coming shorter and heavier, and she didn't protest when he flipped them over without breaking their latest long, lingering kiss.

He knew that this was supposed to be about him, but the truth was, he simply couldn't help himself. All it took was one look at her underneath him, flushed and hot and staring up at him like she needed him with _everything_ within her, and then he was sliding down her body and devouring her with an even greater passion than he had in his office the day before.

Since she didn't have to be quiet this time and she knew that he didn't want her to, he got to hear and _feel_ her fall apart so quickly from his efforts that he utterly envied her. As she laid there in a dazed bliss after, he moved back up her body and then watched her face as his fingers went to her, just one more time, and he savored her expression of sudden surprise as she lost it all over again only moments later. He chuckled as she whimpered and then said breathlessly as she came back down to earth, "You... this was supposed to be about you! What the hell..."

He grinned and kissed her softly, and then as soon as she had caught her breath, she maneuvered him over on his back and once again climbed on top of him, her hair wild and body still trembling from what he had done to her. This time, there was no stopping her and he was glad, because he was aching for her more than he had all night, and he _needed_ her, potential panic issues be damned.

She leaned down and kissed him, her hips aligning with his until they were nearly joined. One hand on her hip and the other moving up and down her back, he looked up at her as she drew back and quietly told him, "Just relax."

He nodded, watching her in pent-up desire and awe as she sat up straight, _everything_ on display for him. One careful shifting of her hips later, the waiting was over and she took him in, and though he tried hard to keep his eyes open to watch her, she felt entirely too perfect and his eyes closed as a deep, rough moan left his lips. Then he was _lost_.

Like she had with everything else that night, she started slowly and experimentally, both of them aware that it was her first time in her life being on top. Her movements were small and accidentally too teasing at first, all but killing him before they'd barely even gotten started, but soon she found a rhythm that pleased them both. A surprised, delighted moan left her mouth as she started _really_ moving, and he forced his eyes to stay open so that he could watch her discover for the first time how good sex could be if it was with the right person.

He moved with her, their breathless sounds mixing together in the air around them as time seemed to stand still just for them. He watched her lean forward, place both of her hands on his chest for balance, and start moving faster in a new angle that made her gasp and close her eyes. He hands left her hips to grasp at her breasts as they bounced more and more the faster she went, and he watched, awestruck, as she rode him until she shook and cried out with a moan of pure surprise.

He was sure that he'd never been more turned on in his life than he was in that moment, watching her lose her mind from her own efforts on top of him, and his _problem_ was the last thing on his mind as he sat up and let her drop her head on to his shoulder. As she clutched him and tried to catch her breath, he ran his fingers through her hair and caressed up and down her back, both of them silent and still joined together. He waited patiently for her to regain her senses, and when she did, she lifted her head and grinned at him in a way that made his heart flood with sudden warmth.

"Holy crap," she muttered, her arms wrapping around his neck. He bit his lip and smiled as he stared at her, wanting to forever remember how she looked in that moment - loose, relaxed, happy, unashamed. It was a _great_ look on her.

"You're fucking incredible," he told her, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush full of emotion and need. She smiled in response, then closed her eyes and kissed him as she gave a slow, tiny roll of her hips. His breath hitched at that one small movement, and then she did it again, and again, until they were moving again, this time in a languid but deep rhythm.

Their kisses were slow, open mouthed and punctuated by gasps that grew deeper and louder the faster they eventually moved. He let her have control of the pace, control of _everything_ , and it wasn't long before he could feel himself getting closer to that edge that had been unattainable for so very long.

He clutched her tighter, arms wrapped around her like she was the only thing keeping him from sinking and disappearing. She had a tight grip on his hair with one hand while the other's nails scratched pleasantly hard down his back, and they were kissing until he felt the panic start to bubble up inside. He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead to hers as he shut his eyes tightly and tried to focus on the pleasure rather than the fear of impending failure, and it wasn't easy.

But Summer had her eyes open and she could see the conflict and the tension suddenly etched into his features, and her voice cut through the noise in his head and replaced it with comfort that he needed to get through it all.

"Relax, I've got you," she told him, kissing across his jaw to his ear. "You can let go."

He groaned, teetering between two extremes and terrified of failing, of what might happen if he _couldn't_ do it. He was falling into that familiar vicious cycle when she all but yanked him out of it, taking his face in his hands and softly demanding, "Look at me."

His eyes flew open, full of fear and want and desperation as they locked on to hers. She didn't cease her movements and neither did he, instead growing faster as she told him, "Don't think. Stop thinking and just... just let go, for me." She kissed him, then said against his lips, "Let go, Bucky."

His name on her tongue was somehow what broke the cycle. Holding her even tighter, almost enough to bruise her, he finally, _finally_ , gave in to her, his eyes shut and their foreheads pressed together once more as he let her guide him towards relief at last.

He kept his eyes shut, but hers stayed open to watch him as he fell apart. First his mouth dropped open, and then his fingers dug into her skin. Then a broken, trembling gasp left his lips, followed by another, and as overwhelming, long-denied, nearly euphoric pleasure replaced the fear that had gripped him for far too long, his gasps became a loud moan that was so deep and uncontrollable that it came out sounding like a heart-wrenching sob.

Summer held him through it all, watching his face and savoring his moans until they faded after what felt to him like an eternity. It left him utterly wrecked, shaking and barely even there, incoherent and lost as she cradled him in her arms, much like he had with her.

His mind didn't return to him until she had gently eased them both to lay down, tangled up in each other and slick with sweat that covered them both. When he finally opened his eyes, his head was resting on her chest and her fingers were in his hair, soothing and sweet as they ran through the now-damp short tresses. He took a deep breath and then slowly raised his head to look upon the woman that he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was deeply and _dangerously_ in love with.

She smiled at him, then began wiping under his eyes with both of her thumbs. He blinked a few times. Had he actually... _cried_ a little bit?

He couldn't be embarrassed though, not when she drew him down to kiss him so sweetly it nearly hurt. He felt boneless, more loose and relaxed than he had in years, and he could have worshipped at her feet for being the one to free him from his miserable frustration. Instead, though, he gathered her into his arms and turned them over, so that she was cuddled to his side and her head was settled under the crook of his neck.

"Better?" she asked cheekily, and he shifted to grin down at her a bit sleepily.

He kissed her softly, then murmured, "I don't know what to say. Nothing seems even... halfway good enough."

"All those languages, and _nothing_?" she smiled.

"Well... there's something," he said, quietly and carefully. "But... I don't think I should."

"Why not?" she asked, though her smile faded a little with the sudden, slightly serious shift in the conversation.

He stared at her for a moment, his fingertips caressing feather-softly on her cheek and jaw as he carefully considered his next words. "Don't want to scare you away."

"You should know by now that you really _can't_ scare me away," she replied, smile coming back. "Unless you're gonna tell me that this was nice and everything but that you changed your mind and we shouldn't see each other anymore."

He shook his head immediately. "That's the last thing I want to tell you."

She smiled wider and kissed the tip of his thumb as he traced her bottom lip with it. "Then what _do_ you want to tell me?"

Gathering his courage, he stared at her silently for a moment, cherishing having her in his arms like this and being able to pretend that a long, difficult road wasn't ahead of them. But they'd never get there if they weren't honest, so he answered her quietly, "That I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll ruin you or that this'll be too hard for you and you'll leave. But mostly I'm scared because I know I'm already in love with you and that _terrifies_ me."

First he saw pure, unadulterated shock unfold in her eyes. But then, after that wore off, there was warmth and a smile that lit up her entire face. "... You're in love with me?"

He nodded without hesitation. "I know it's fast but I just... I _know_. I don't know _how_ I know because it's been so long, but...

Her sudden joyful kiss to his lips silenced him mid-sentence. She pulled away smiling brightly enough to light up the dark room they were lying in. "I thought it was just _me_ ," she said happily, like he had just made her entire _life_. "I've been laying here about to freak out and explode because I was trying to hold it all in and not freak _you_ out, but... yeah. _Yeah_."

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Oh _yeah_."

Then she kissed him again, and they both laughed quietly and softly in relief and the sort of joy that neither of them were very familiar with. There was so much that was still unknown and dangerous and potentially disastrous, but when she was in his arms and kissing him as they both smiled like idiots, he could believe that they might just beat the odds after all. Just _maybe_.

Until then, he held her close throughout the night and eventually fell asleep more deeply than he had in longer than he could remember. It was a dreamless, peaceful sleep, and he owed it, and so much more, all to her.

* * *

Normally, Summer awoke fairly early in the morning to the sound of her phone alarm screeching in her ear, unpleasantly plunging her into the joys of a new day. The following morning, however, she awoke much differently, in a way that she could definitely get used to.

Despite the morning sun, the room was still fairly dim thanks to the dark blue curtains shielding the window, and she was warm under the sheets and pressed to an even warmer body behind her. Bucky's arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her tight against him as he placed tiny, sweet kisses along her neck. The tingles that his kisses caused were what woke her, and as she opened her eyes and realized it all hadn't been one long, incredibly vividly detailed dream, a lazy, contented smile spread across her lips.

She reached her hand down to cover his as it held her, closing her eyes as he kissed his way up her neck to her jaw, where he stopped and then brushed his nose against her cheek. "Morning, beautiful."

Her smile widened and she slowly turned on to her back, opening her eyes to take in the sight of Bucky smiling down at her, still half asleep and with hair that was adorably askew. He looked so happy and content that it made her heart hurt, but only in the best of ways.

"Morning," she replied, voice hoarse with sleep. "What time is it?"

He shrugged. "It's Sunday, so I don't care."

She smiled in reply, then shifted so that she laid facing him. He did the same, arm curling around her to hold her close again as she asked quietly, "So... all of that was real?"

He grinned and nodded. "I sure hope so."

She reached her hand up to his cheek, the stubble on his jaw rough under her fingertips in a pleasant way, and as she stared at him and marveled over what had transpired between them and the fact that this man was _in love_ with her, Bucky interrupted her thoughts by asking, "Got any plans for today?"

"Well, I do have some studying to do, but... not until later," she replied. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "Just a few things to get together before class tomorrow."

"So," she surmised, "we have the whole day to ourselves?"

"Looks that way," he murmured before leaning forward and kissing her softly, like he couldn't possibly wait any longer to feel her lips against his again. She smiled into the kiss and then slid her fingers into his hair, giving into the bliss of being able to spend the warm, lazy morning in his arms and in his bed. It was still so surreal, but as much as she felt like she was dreaming, she knew that she wasn't.

Their kisses were soft and lazy, interrupted now and again by one of them taking a breath and smiling at the other before starting all over again. Their hands moved over one another at just as languid of a pace, and it felt like an eternity had passed before Bucky pulled the sheets away from both of their bodies and gently eased himself on top of her. She welcomed the weight of him, smiling up at his own matching grin before he leaned down and captured her lips again, more passionately this time, and she moaned quietly at the feeling _all_ of him pressed against her.

He broke away when she made the sound, one of his hands caressing her cheek as the other held himself up, and she risked breaking the spell by looking up at him and asking, "Do you still mean what you said? About... being in love with me? Or was that just the sex talking? ... Because I know how long it had been and I'd understand if..."

"Summer," he interrupted with a gentle smile, still tracing lines along her face with his fingertips, " _yes_ , I meant what I said. I promise you, I meant every word."

She smiled and exhaled in relief. "I'm sorry, I just had to ask, just in case. I mean... I can still barely believe any of this is happening."

"Neither can I," he replied, leaning down and kissing her neck once. Then he lifted his head and added, "But I'll tell you as often as it takes for you to believe me."

"Tell me what?" she asked, smiling and biting her lip, running her hands over his shoulders as butterflies fluttered happily through her stomach.

"That I'm in love with you," he replied with just as much sincerity as the night before, maybe even more.

Her smile reached its very limits upon her face, and as she wrapped her legs around him and brought her hands to the back of his neck to pull him back down, she replied quietly, "I love you, too."

Then they kissed, and though it was all still so new and seemingly unreal, they effortlessly fell into a sweet and slow dance that came so naturally that it almost seemed like they had known it forever.

The room was quiet and no loud or jarring moans disturbed the peace, only quiet groans and breathy gasps filling the air instead. It was lazy and perfect, and he took his time making love to her, watching her face lovingly the first time she fell apart and barely holding himself together the second time. But Summer stayed present enough to watch him carefully when he reached his own end, and when he was on the edge, she saw just a small flash of that same apprehension he'd been full of the night before. And just like then, she held him and soothed him through it, and it worked as beautifully as it had the first time. He let go much more easily and confidently, and she didn't think she'd ever tire of hearing him moan or watching his pleasure play out on his face.

They laid there after, tangled up and exhausted yet again, and after more lazy kisses and a few more smiles and quiet words, they drifted back to sleep and didn't end up getting out of bed until the early afternoon.

The day passed by in a haze once they managed to leave the bed, first taking a shower that left Summer smelling like him thanks to having to use the shampoo and soap that he kept for himself, but she didn't mind. She had never shared a shower with anyone and it had been years since he had, but like everything else, it all seemed to come amazingly naturally.

After, they whiled the day away without stepping out of the apartment once. Bucky watched her trudge around his kitchen and unearth things he'd never used before to make them a very late breakfast, and he didn't bother to hide his surprise that a young college student knew how to cook, and decently, if the food itself was any indication.

Once they were no longer starving, the rest of the day was spent talking and asking one another questions, first at the table and then on his couch. They left the heavy questions alone at first, this time quizzing each other on such safe topics as music and school and anything else that popped into their heads. She found out that he was as good at math as he was at languages, and he found out that she had nearly dropped his class before starting it in favor of an English class, but that she stuck with her previously chosen major in the end. And they were both _very_ glad that she did.

Eventually the subjects grew deeper, and she went more in depth about her first and terrible ex-boyfriend, while he told her about the only other woman he'd ever loved. It wasn't easy for either of them to speak of those parts of their lives but they did, and it brought them closer. By the time the sun had begun to set outside, the conversations had run their course and they were wrapped up in each other, content with only kissing and being in each other's arms until Summer decided that she needed more, just one more time, and pushed him down on the couch and climbed on top of him. He was more than happy to yield control to her, and she just wished that the time wasn't running out and that she didn't have to go home soon.

But she did. Soon she was back in his car, laughing at how he had put a hat and a hoodie on to drive her home, as if it was an actual real disguise or something and his very distinct car didn't give him away regardless. He took the teasing in stride, and when he pulled up to her building, it was another struggle to part and pry their lips away from each other so that she could leave. It wasn't easy, but eventually she found herself walking up the stairs to her apartment alone, smiling like a moron and as close to cloud nine as she had ever been.

She laid in bed that night after getting her homework done, setting the alarm on her phone when she got an incoming text from Bucky's number. _My sheets still smell like you_.

She smiled and quickly typed back, _My skin smells like you, and not just because of the soap you let me use_.

A moment passed before he sent another message. _Would you laugh at me if I said I missed you already?_

 _No,_ she typed back immediately, _because I miss you too_.

His next text came after a bit longer, but it made her smile come rushing back. _See you in class tomorrow_.

Face aflame with a new blush, she replied, _I'll be the one chewing her pen and definitely not thinking about what you look like naked or anything_.

This time, his reply was quite prompt. _I'll definitely be thinking about you naked_. She groaned and was figuring out what to send back when he sent another text right after the first. _And how fucking gorgeous you are when you come._

She squeaked and dropped her phone, shoving her face into her pillow and groaning helplessly. What could she even say back to that?

He saved her the trouble by giving her something else to answer. _You're also just as beautiful when I say something dirty and you blush like you're all sweet and innocent_.

 _I_ am _sweet and innocent, Professor_ , she replied back, trying to get the hang of this teasing thing.

His reply came quickly once again. _Lying to me will just get you called into my office after class_.

She giggled and covered her face with her free hand, heart already pounding at the thought. _I think I can handle that_.

 _We'll see_ , he replied. Next came his goodnight text, and she felt the blush slowly leaving her cheeks and retreating as she sent one back, then put her phone on the charger and burrowed into the covers.

This was her life now. It could end a thousand horrible different ways, but she fell asleep with a smile on her face, because she had faith somehow that it wouldn't.

* * *

The following morning, Summer found herself in a familiar place, seated between Darcy and Esteban and waiting for their linguistics professor to arrive at his own class and start his lecture, and Summer's lying skills were already being put to the test.

"So, tell us about the hot date," Darcy said immediately upon sitting down. "Who was he? Does he go here?"

"No," Summer replied honestly. "He's, uh... military."

"Military?" Esteban repeated. "Oh, where did you find him? Does he work on the base?"

"Did you finally get some action?" Darcy asked, and Summer blushed and dropped her face into her hands at the barrage of questions.

"Oh my gosh," she laughed, "I met him just... you know, around. While I was out the other day."

"Okay, and about the action? Did you get any or not?"

Blushing even harder, Summer managed to squeak out, "Uh... well... maybe."

"Oh my God finally," Darcy replied while Esteban gave her a cheerful, congratulatory shoulder pat. "Tell us all about it. I need details. Not being creepy or anything, I just need to know."

"Um, well..." Summer trailed off, only to shut up when the door opened and the man she had _really_ spent her Saturday night and most of Sunday with came strolling into the lecture hall. He then shocked the entire class by looking out at his students and doing the unthinkable - _smiling_.

"Morning," he said in a tone that was downright cheerful, and every student present stared at him as if he had been abducted by aliens and replaced with an overly chipper clone. But it wasn't just the rather large smile or the overtly light tone of his voice. It was the way that he stood, the way that he walked, everything about him that screamed of some rather major stress relief.

Darcy and Esteban forgot all about their interrogation of Summer, staring at the pod person who had replaced their professor and then leaning in behind Summer for a quick conference.

"Oh my God," Darcy whispered, "are you _seeing_ this?"

"Yes, but I don't believe it. He is _smiling_. Is the apocalypse near?"

"Dude, I bet you he totally got laid. It's the only explanation."

"He is _still_ smiling."

"I know, what the hell. Maybe he didn't _just_ get laid. Maybe he had a night of like marathon banging, because he actually seems..."

"... _Happy_ ," Esteban half-gasped.

Summer's pen was already in her mouth, and though keeping herself from smiling was exceedingly difficult and nearly impossible, she managed to rein in the urge to beam and then dissolve into a fit of giggles. But then her heart nearly stopped for a moment when Bucky looked up into the seats, his eyes meeting hers for only a fraction of a second. It was fleeting and to anyone else it would have been all but unnoticeable and very much neutral, but it was enough to make her melt and send butterflies racing through her belly once more.

The surprises kept coming. Over the course of the class, he laughed a few times, smiled even more, and left all of the students wondering what the hell had happened to cause such an enormous change in him. But the single biggest shock came when he actually let the class out early, which was unprecedented.

Summer headed out behind her friends, who were still debating who the professor had spent his apparently life-changing weekend with, and when she passed by his desk, she stopped in her tracks when she heard him call out in his all-business voice, "McAdams."

It was a nice, impersonal touch to use her last name, and certainly very intentional, which made her smile as she stopped and replied, "Yeah?"

He looked at her like she was any other student, expression neutral but friendly as he said, "I've given it some thought and I've decided to change my policy on extra credit, so if you want to make up some of what you lost on that test, you can come by my office later and we can go over your options."

"Oh," she smiled back, just like she still would have even if she hadn't known exactly what _else_ he had in mind for her visit. "Yeah, thanks! That would be great."

He nodded. "Good. You can come by around four and we can talk then."

"Okay! I'll be there," she replied cheerfully, and he smiled back at her in a way that was entirely innocent but still made her heart thud in her chest.

"See you then," he said before turning away, and then she was walking out of the class and into the hallway, perfectly calm on the outside but utterly _freaking out_ on the inside.

Summer caught up with Darcy and Esteban, mind racing and blood pumping faster, anxious and nervous but incredibly happy all the same. She could deal with the secrecy and the occasional white lies here and there if it meant feeling the way that she did inside, which was light and airy and ridiculously happy, with not even an inch of shame anywhere to be found. It was more than worth it, and there was no second guessing the decisions that had brought her here.

Only time would tell how the story would end, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would have the time of her life finding out.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Soooo... this is not an epilogue lol, this is a fourth part that I did not plan on writing until midnightwings96 threw the ideas for it at me and suddenly I needed it. So, the blame for this one goes directly on her and her brilliance and general awesomeness of coming up with ideas that I ADORE without fail :D Next after this will be the actual epilogue lol. I've also started writing the next chapter of LAD, so that should be coming around Sunday or Monday. I love you ALL, thank you SO MUCH for your feedback and for receiving this story so well. If I had known you all would like it, I would have written it months ago instead of thinking it was stupid and controlling my urges to write it :p Thanks again and I'll see you all soon :D**

Apparently, time flew by when one was juggling work and school with a secret, scandalous affair that could forever tarnish their reputation.

Nearly an entire year flashed by in what seemed like a sleep-deprived blink of an eye. Summer survived linguistics and the entire semester, plus some of the next, with great success that surprised even her. She kept her grades up, worked at her job enough to live less poorly than she'd initially expected, and she did it all without spilling her secret to a single soul. Bucky kept the secret within his immediate circle of Steve and Natasha, both of whom seemed to grasp how serious the relationship was when he told them how Summer had fixed his little _problem_.

Summer didn't see Bucky as much as she would have liked, but it was just the nature of their reality. She was busy, he was often busier, and sometimes they couldn't find time to steal away together for a week or longer. But even when their schedules conspired against one another, they exchanged calls and texts that kept them close, and he remained a bright, if utterly hidden, part of her every day. He was the reason for her smiles that nobody else understood, and though it was hard and she would never claim otherwise, they made it work.

She didn't visit his office anymore after finishing his class, to avoid raising obvious suspicions, so their meetings were largely restricted to their apartments and, on nights where they were free, small towns outside of the city where nobody knew them. Though the routine didn't have a lot of variety and it was fairly predictable, it was still every bit as thrilling and exhilarating as it had been from the very beginning, and everything that had drawn them together only grew stronger as the months passed. They grew to know each other in ways very few others did, and though they both fell in love fast, time made them fall deeper.

The thought of anything changing or coming between them was something that was always possible but rarely spoken or even thought of. It took a jarring dose of reality one rare night they had all to themselves to wake them up to just how tight a line they were walking, months after they had began.

They were in Summer's apartment, on her couch under a blanket she insisted on snuggling under as they watched a movie after eating the dinner she'd made for them. Unsurprisingly, Bucky grew restless about halfway into the movie, groaning quietly as he kissed her neck and asked, "How long _is_ this movie?"

"It's Titanic, it's really long," she giggled, warm and happy under the cover and in his arms. It had been over a week since the last time they'd had a night like this, and now she was rethinking her movie choice as he continued leaving light, soft little kisses along her neck and sending little shivers down her spine.

"Think we could try to finish it later?" he asked, lifting his head and gently turning her face so that she was looking him in the eye. She could still hardly believe that any of this was real sometimes, even all of this time later.

"There's no way we'll finish it later," she pointed out with a knowing smile. "You know that."

"I'm sorry," he smiled back, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I've missed you. Feels like I haven't seen you in a month."

"It was ten days," she replied, and he groaned and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Ten days too long," he murmured before kissing her again, more insistently this time, and she moaned like the sucker she was for him. But the truth was, she needed him just as badly as he needed her, and since she had already seen the movie more times than she could count, she had no hesitation in turning away from the TV and letting the movie continue to play without a single soul watching so that she could give Bucky her full attention.

It was a familiar dance by now but no less passionate or loving, all breathless, quiet sounds and needy hands as they kissed and tugged almost mindlessly at the other's clothes. Most of hers came off first, then his, though she couldn't quite get his pants all the way off, but it was good enough for him as he gently laid her down on the couch and placed himself on top of her.

"I miss having you in my class," he admitted, kissing her and running the hand that wasn't holding himself up down over her chest, palming at her breast as she opened her eyes and looked at him curiously.

"Yeah? Why?"

He kissed her again, fingers playing and pulling a soft little mewl from her mouth before he replied, "Because I saw you more often. Even if it was far away and just for an hour, I still loved looking up and seeing your face. Seeing you chewing on your pens and trying to act like you hadn't been watching me."

"Students are _supposed_ to pay attention to their professors, you know," she pointed out cheekily, grinning until his hand slipped much lower down her body and lingered there.

"Not the way that you did," he pointed out, eyes darkening at the way that she closed her eyes and moaned at his touch. "I bet you were sitting there just wondering what I was going to do to you later, once I got you alone."

She whimpered softly, and he tried to catch the sound with his lips as he kissed her deeply. Before long, he was cursing at how easily and quickly she could become more than ready for him, and then his hand was pulling her leg over his hip as he took her with all the care and passion of a man who was so deeply in love that he couldn't see straight.

It was perfect, worth the wait and worth _everything_ , just as he was. She held on to his hair with one hand and clutched his back with her other, thinking of nothing else but him and how much she adored him as he kissed her and drove her closer and closer to her end. He wasn't trying to drag it out - he'd do that later, she knew, once they had made their way to her bedroom and he was ready for another go - but he wasn't in a hurry either, and his deep, careless moans in her ear were nearly her undoing.

The blanket now down near his hips, almost sliding off entirely but not quite, they were both caught up and neither of them heard the knock on the door over the sound of the TV and their own quiet but growing noises. Unfortunately, Summer had left her door unlocked when she had let Bucky in a few hours before, so there was nothing stopping the unexpected guest from opening the door like she always did and strolling right on inside.

"Hey, what the hell, you're watching Titanic without me? I am so offend...ed, _holy fucking shit!_ "

Darcy's voice had never been the cause of such pure, raging panic in Summer before until that uniquely horrifying moment. Similarly, Darcy had never before walked into her close friend's apartment and caught one of their old professors on top of said friend, naked save for a blanket barely covering his lower half and _thrusting_ until they both heard her voice and sprang apart like two criminals caught in the act. They both stared at Darcy, wide-eyed and instantly panicked, all of their worst fears suddenly seemingly realized.

Darcy gaped at them, frozen in horror, until Summer grabbed at the blanket to cover herself and screeched, " _Darcy!_ "

But Darcy only gaped more, because Summer's grabbing of the cover had accidentally pulled it off of Bucky, who was half-sitting now and looking vaguely like he might throw up, but Darcy managed to tear her eyes away and drop the books that had been in her arms since she had first walked in.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," Darcy said, turning her back to them and holding her hands up in retreat. "I just came by to bring your books back and since the door wasn't locked and I could hear the movie playing..."

Dying of embarrassment and also the fact that they had been truly _caught_ , Summer wrapped the blanket around herself as best she could and looked at Bucky, who was tugging his jeans back up and still looking at her like he felt sick. It made her feel sick as well, and she didn't say another word until Darcy said, "I'll, uh, I'll just go. I'm really sorry. I'll knock from now on. Um... sorry again, and... bye, Professor Barnes."

Darcy then made to scurry out the door, and Summer panicked one more time and jumped to her feet to stop her. "Darcy, wait, _wait_!"

She stopped Darcy just in front of the door, and Bucky disappeared from the room as Darcy stared her friend in still-very present shock and disbelief. Now alone, Darcy was able to hiss in a whisper, "What the hell, Summer? What the hell are you _doing_?!"

"I know how it looks," Summer said, face bright red and hands shaking, "but I promise I'll tell you everything. You just can't tell anyone. Please, _please_ promise you won't tell anyone what you saw, not even Esteban."

" _Duh_ I won't tell anyone," Darcy replied. "But Summer, he's a _professor_! You can't fuck your professors!"

"I know, I know," Summed groaned, wishing she had just locked the damn front door, because then none of this would be happening. "And I'm not, it's only him, and we've been together for almost a year now."

Darcy's already-large eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. " _What_?!"

"I know," Summer said again. "Just promise me you won't tell anyone, Darcy."

"Okay, I promise," Darcy nodded, and Summer believed her. "But _holy shit!_ "

"Look, come over tomorrow and I'll explain," Summer said, hand going to the doorknob. "But I've gotta go make sure he's not having a meltdown right now, so just go, and I'll call you, okay?"

Darcy nodded, not hesitating to walk out the door. "Okay. But be careful, Summer. Like seriously, _be careful_."

Summer nodded, grateful that it had at least been Darcy to catch them and not someone who would go run and tell someone at school and ruin their lives. She trusted her friend, but she had bigger things to worry about at the moment, so she closed the door and then headed off in search of Bucky.

She found him when she rounded the corner towards her bedroom. He walked out of it, fully clothed but pale and stricken as he asked her immediately, "Is she going to tell?"

Summer shook her head and tried to put him at ease. "No. She's in shock, obviously, but she promised she wouldn't tell anyone and I believe her. She has no reason to tell anyone."

Bucky didn't look convinced. Instead he turned and dropped his head against the hallway wall rather harshly. " _Fuck_. Why wasn't the door locked?"

"I don't know," she replied in a small voice. "I must have forgotten. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, turning away from the wall and looking at her with clear pain in his eyes. "If she tells just _one_ of her friends..."

"She won't," Summer insisted.

"You don't know that," Bucky replied, almost snapping at her, and a sudden prickle of shame made Summer instantly fall silent. "You can't trust anybody. That's why we've kept this a secret."

" _Your_ friends know," she pointed out. "And I never meant for her to find out, so I don't know why you're looking at me like I did this on purpose."

His face changed then, as if he hadn't realized how he'd been speaking to her or looking at her. He took a breath and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't do it on purpose, I'm just..."

"I know, it's okay. I'm freaking out, too," she replied. "But I really think we're going to be okay here."

He merely shook his head again, getting a far away look in his eyes that she didn't like seeing there. She then wasn't surprised when he ran a hand through his hair, saying that he needed to go home and think, though she felt more than forlorn at the thought.

She followed him back into the living room, blanket dragging along the floor behind her. "But... it's not even nine yet, and you were supposed to stay over tonight."

Depositing his phone into his pocket, he turned around and looked at her standing there, eyes a bit hurt and clutching a blanket to herself. His own eyes softened and he came closer, pulling her into a hug as he said, "I know, I'm sorry. I've got tomorrow off too, so we'll do something then. Just... give me some time to think, okay?"

"Think about what?" she asked with sudden mild fear as he drew away. She was as freaked out as he was but if he overreacted and suddenly decided they needed to stop seeing each other...

"I don't know," he replied honestly. Then he kissed her softly, almost too softly, then said, "I love you. I'll call you tomorrow."

She nodded, then watched him walk out of her apartment with a sudden heaviness that sat on her heart the moment her door clicked shut.

Meanwhile, on her TV, the famously unsinkable ship had just struck an iceberg and was beginning its slow journey to the bottom of the ocean. She picked up the remote and turned it off, hoping to God that this wasn't the beginning of their own end and that they would be laughing about this in a week.

* * *

The following evening found Summer sitting across from Bucky at the restaurant they'd had their first date in. It was more or less their _place_ now, so she hadn't been surprised when he had texted her earlier to ask her there. What did surprise her was how cheerful he was, in direct contrast to how he'd left her the night before.

He was dressed nicely, hair perfect and expression serious but light as he said, "I'm really sorry for how I acted last night. I overreacted. I should have just stayed so we could have talked and... calmed down."

"It's okay," she replied. "I understand, trust me."

He nodded. "Did you talk to your friend today?"

She took a sip of her wine before answering. "Yeah, I did. We talked through everything, and she swore again that she won't tell anyone. Once she got over the whole shock thing, she mainly just tried to get a ton of details out of me."

"Did you give them?" Bucky asked with amusement.

She grinned and shrugged, "Well... just enough to get her off my back. So, you know, just the basics."

"The basics?" he asked. "What are those?"

"Um... oh, you know. What we typically _do_ , if we ever hooked up in your office, how, um... _big_... you are."

That made him chuckle. "And what did you say?"

"A whole lot of stuff, yes, and _huge_ , of course," she rattled off, and they both laughed. "It seemed like the easiest answer, since I've never actually gotten a ruler and, uh, measured, so..."

"I'm fine with that," he replied, still smiling, and though Summer should have been relieved that all seemed to be well again, something was bothering her that she just couldn't shake. She tried to ignore it and just be happy that the disaster had been averted.

But then Bucky said something that changed the course of the night, though he had no idea that it would do so. "I'm glad everything turned out okay. I was supposed to have today off but I ended up at work for a little while anyway and it was hard to focus at first."

"Why'd you have to go in?" she asked, taking a bite of her food.

"Well," he looked down and smiled, "I didn't want to mention this until I knew something for sure, but..."

She smiled. "What?"

"I applied for something," he replied. "It's a pretty big promotion, one of the more advanced courses. I wasn't gonna bother at first but it turns out they _want_ me for it."

Her eyes widened and she swallowed her latest bite before all but gushing, "Oh, wow! That's great!"

He nodded, grinning widely himself. "I should have an answer in the next month or so, but it looks good. As long as I don't bomb the interviews, I might have a pretty good chance."

"That's awesome," she said, her smile utterly genuine. "Look at you. Not even 35 yet and already on your way to being a brilliant, highly respected professor."

He chuckled. "Well, let's not get _too_ ahead of ourselves."

She shook her head and insisted, "If they want you for it, then I don't see how you won't get it. You work hard and you're _really_ smart, and..."

He tilted his head slightly, enjoying the praise and waiting for her to finish. But she couldn't, because something suddenly hit her hard enough to paralyze her voice and send a brief chill through her veins.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she _still_ didn't say another word, looking away and remaining otherwise motionless. "Summer?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head and reaching again for her wine. But she wasn't fine. She had spent the last day being so worried about Bucky's reaction to their being caught that she hadn't managed to even think about her own reaction. But now that all was well again and Bucky was happy and apparently on the verge of a big step up in his career, her own guilt and fear hit her out of nowhere.

Bucky didn't seem like he believed her, but he left it at that and then took a drink himself. She watched his eyes scan the room as he did, which was a habit of his every time they went everywhere, even this far out of the city. It reminded her of secret agents in movies, sweeping the perimeter for snipers or assassins, only in his case he was always looking for people who might recognize them. They were always looking over their shoulders when they were together, and for good reason.

She realized that she had been living in a fantasy bubble the entire time they'd been together. While she'd always been aware of the danger and potential consequences, actually being caught made it real in a way that it hadn't before. And after what he had just told her, it was all converging in her mind in a way that left her feeling incredibly depressed and _terrified_.

"You're not okay," Bucky pointed out, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find him appearing very concerned as he looked at her, and she knew there was no point in trying to deny it anymore.

"No I'm not, I'm..."

"What?" he asked quietly.

She looked around the room at a handful of other couples also dining there, then looked down at the base of her wine glass as she tried to keep the words inside and not let them out. It was the very last thing that she wanted to say, and once she did she knew everything would change, but it all ended up bursting out like word vomit anyway.

"Maybe we should stop," she blurted, not meeting his eyes as she spoke. "Maybe... I don't think we should keep doing this."

Once the words were out, she looked up and forced herself to meet his gaze. Her heart twisted painfully when she saw the shock in his eyes, the way that his previously happy face fell in an instant and became as confused as it was instantly pained.

"What?" he asked, forcing out a chuckle that was completely humorless. "Are you... are you serious?"

She nodded, though she felt sick just saying it and her appetite was definitely long gone. "Yeah."

"But... we're okay. I overreacted, I..."

"No," she shook her head, "I think you reacted the right way and I didn't react enough. And after what you just told me about the promotion, I just... I can't do that to you."

"Do _what_ to me?" he asked, not bothering to hide how distressed he growing with each new word she spoke.

"Ruin your career," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We just got caught last night in my _apartment_. If it happened again and it was someone who wasn't Darcy, then..."

"Summer," he interrupted gently, sounding calm though there was panic in his eyes, "we're careful. We'll be fine."

She looked at him incredulously and shook her head. "But you don't know that. And if someone found out and you got this amazing new job just to lose it and then never get another teaching job again because of me..."

Bucky stared at her for a long moment without saying a word. She felt tears stinging behind her eyes and she wanted more than anything to rewind the last few minutes and take everything she'd said back, but she knew she couldn't. She wasn't with him just to have fun and use him for his _skills_ and habit of paying for her dinners. She loved him more than she loved herself, a _lot_ more, and their very close call had finally made it sink in how easily she could wreck his entire life.

He'd been through too much and overcome too much for that to happen. For that reason, she knew she had to stick to her guns and let him go. Maybe not forever, but at least while their relationship could mean his professional and likely social doom.

They didn't say another word to each other in the restaurant. He paid for their barely-touched meals and was soon silently leading her back out to the car, and the long ride back home was almost just as silent.

It wasn't until she had quietly shed a few secret tears and he had parked in front of her apartment building that either of them really said anything. He was the one that spoke, and she had never heard his voice sound so small and _sad_.

"There's nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?" he asked, staring at the steering wheel while she stared at him from the passenger seat.

"I'd never forgive myself if I ended up being the thing to ruin your life," she said, sniffing back more tears that were trying to escape. She'd cry later, when she alone.

"But it's been almost a year," he said, looking at her with eyes so pained that it caused _her_ physical pain. "Why are you doing this _now_?"

"Because I was stupid, or naive or something," she replied. "I didn't think we'd ever get caught. But we did, and..." When he looked away, his pained expression spreading across his entire face, she quickly added, "Once I graduate, then everything will be different."

Still looking away, he muttered, "That's a year and a half away, Summer."

Her frown deepened at this, feeling another pang within at the thought of being away from him for that long. Who knew if he'd even want her anymore at that point, once she had her degree and it was safe to be together again. She couldn't help but think that he wouldn't, or that someone else would come along before then who was much easier and ethical for him to be with.

"I know, but..." she trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say. A few quiet, tense moments passed, and eventually she reached out and touched his hand that was clenched in a loose fist next to his leg. " _I'm_ _sorry_."

He looked at her like she had crushed him and left him for dead. She thought that he was about to either rail at her or beg her to change her mind, but then he looked away and dropped his head back against his seat. "I wish you weren't right."

And just then, she knew that it was over. They simply loved each other too much to put the other at such risk any longer, even though it made them both ache in their very bones to even think of being apart.

"Me too," she replied quietly. Then he looked at her again, and she couldn't bear to see the look on his face anymore, so she leaned in and kissed him to spare herself the sight. He didn't respond at first, maybe trying to hold himself back or just not wanting to touch her, but it wasn't long before his hand was in her hair, tugging her closer, and they were sharing the single least joyful kiss they'd ever experienced.

She didn't want to let go and neither did he, so for a long time, they didn't. It was slow and rushed at the same time, deep and full of things they couldn't say because it would hurt too much. When they finally came up for a breath, his eyes remained closed and Summer traced his jawline with her fingers before asking somewhat timidly, "Do you want to... come up, one more time?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her in despair, his hand tightening in her hair before he shook his head. "You _know_ I do. But it would kill me."

His admission only made her hurt more. It would kill her too, so she nodded and kissed him one more time, not intending for it to last as long as it did, but neither of them could do a thing to help it.

When they finally pulled apart, Summer was on the verge of tears again, and she couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She slipped away from his arms and reached down to grab her purse, reaching for the door handle with her other hand until his voice stopped her.

"I love you," he said quietly, almost too quietly for her to hear. But she did hear him, and the words almost brought forth the tears she was fighting to keep inside.

"I love you too. I'm sorry," she said before turning away and opening the door, knowing she wasn't nearly strong enough and would end up trying to take it all back if she spent one more minute in his car.

She closed the door and walked away from the car, heading towards her building and forcing herself to not look back. If she had, she would have seen him watching her with tears in his own eyes, both of them still shocked that just one day had managed turned everything upside down and ruin it all.

Even if it wasn't forever - which she had no way of knowing either way - it still hurt like hell, and the minute she was inside her apartment and alone, she let go and cried in a way that she hadn't in a very long time. His car was gone by the time she managed to pick herself up and peek out the window.

It was for the best, and she wouldn't have done it if she hadn't loved him enough to do _anything_ for him. It just wasn't fair that she'd had to do _this_.

* * *

A month passed by. Summer sleepwalked through her classes and her work, and spent her free time wailing to Darcy about how much she missed the man that she loved enough to sacrifice her own happiness for and how unfair it all was. Darcy felt terrible herself for inadvertently sparking the events that led to the breakup, but Summer never blamed her for even a moment. The only bright side was that she didn't have to suffer alone, now that Darcy knew and was there to talk to about it.

Meanwhile, Bucky went through the process of applying and interviewing for the promotion that he was up for in a similar state of numbness. Steve and Natasha did their best to make him feel better and keep him functioning despite how incredibly sad he was, but they could only do so much. He simply focused wholly and completely on work, staying as busy as he possibly could to avoid having to deal with what had happened. It kept him from doing things like showing up to the library just to see her and talk to her, or give in to his nearly always-present desire to call her and try to figure out some way that they could have everything they wanted and be safe at the same time.

But they both knew that such a solution was impossible, so they went on without closure and without hardly any communication for the first four weeks of being apart. Sometimes they'd pass each other in the halls at campus, and when they did they'd share one second of eye contact that would ruin the rest of their entire day before looking away and going on like nothing was wrong.

The day that Bucky found out that he got the job was supposed to be a day of celebration, and to a point, it still was. He was heartbroken but he wasn't _dead_ , and the job was exactly why Summer had broke things off. She wanted him to be successful, and he was. He had accomplished a lot and was on track to accomplish a lot more, and he wasn't going to let her sacrifice be in vain.

He let Steve take him out to celebrate after he got the news, and they spent the evening at a bar getting drunk. Or at least Bucky got drunk - Steve and his bizarrely high tolerance was the designated driver, but Bucky didn't mind. He even managed to forget for awhile about how badly he wanted to call Summer and tell her about the new job, at least until he was back home and alone again.

After Steve bade him goodnight and made sure he was safely inside the apartment and in his room, he left and Bucky stumbled around in the bathroom before trudging out to his bed and collapsing not in it, but on the floor in front of the foot of it. Sitting up and digging his phone out of his pocket, he fumbled with it for a few moments before accidentally hitting a button that he _definitely_ hadn't intended to push - the camera roll, which held memories that served particularly lethal that night.

Technically it was a risk having pictures of them together on his phone at all, but he couldn't bring himself to delete them. Most were photos that Summer had taken herself, silly ones of them smiling or making stupid faces together. A few were ones that he had snapped himself, including one of her wearing just his shirt and giving him a surprised but, to him, adorable look over her shoulder. She'd tried to wrestle the phone from him after and delete it, but he hadn't let her and now he was staring at it yet _again_ even though he should have known better by now.

His head was spinning and his feelings that he ignored fairly well most days were all bubbling to the surface, resulting in him pulling up his contacts and staring at her number and almost calling it five times before he made himself stop. But his resolve got weaker each time, and before he fully realized what he had done, he made the call and then put the phone to his ear.

When she answered sounding half asleep and confused, he knew that he was making a mistake. But he didn't once consider hanging up.

* * *

The sound of her phone ringing near her head was the last thing Summer expected to wake up to at nearly two in the morning. After blinking and blindly grabbing at the phone, assuming that someone was dead or it was her brother forgetting their time zone differences, she didn't check the caller ID before she answered it with a bewildered, "Hello?"

Everything was silent for a long, confusing few seconds. Then she heard a voice she'd know out a sea of a hundred others. "Summer?"

"... Bucky?" she asked in a small voice, her eyes opening wider and brain waking up more. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, though there was a distinct slur to his words. "I know it's late, I just... I wanted to hear your voice."

She was quiet for a moment before she sat up slowly. "Are you drunk?"

"Yeah, I'm hammered," he said with a faint chuckle, though it didn't sound very sincere. "I was out with Steve all night. I got the job and he wanted to celebrate."

She smiled even though the sound of his voice in her ear felt like a dull knife to the heart. " _Really_? You got it?"

"Hey, don't sound so surprised," he joked. "I start next semester."

"That's awesome," she said sincerely. "I knew you'd get it."

"Yeah, well... I would have had more fun celebrating if you had been there."

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall behind her. She knew where this was going, and she wasn't sure if she could handle it.

"I miss you," he said next, his voice low and sad and utter misery to her ears.

"I miss you too," she replied quietly. "You know that I do."

"I wish you were here," he said, and she took a deep breath to keep from falling apart already. "I always wish you were here."

"... Bucky, this isn't... you're making it even harder than it already is," she said, barely able to get her words out. If she could count the times that she had stared at her phone, on the verge of giving in and calling him or texting him herself...

"I know. I'm sorry. Just... please don't hang up."

"I'm not," she replied quietly, kicking herself.

They were both quiet for a moment, just listening to each other breathe before Bucky spoke again. "We could try again."

She closed her eyes. "Bucky..."

"No, just hear me out," he said, and she did. "We could figure it out. I could get us hotel rooms. Might be safer. I could even get a different phone just for talking to you, in case someone ever looked through my phone. I don't know who would, but..."

"Bucky, even if you did those things, it's still a huge risk," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but I'd... I'd be really careful, Summer, I would. I'd be good, I'd..."

... He'd be _good_? Her heart actively splitting in two once again, she choked a little and replied, "We can't. Please stop making this worse."

"I'm trying to make it better," he replied, as earnest as he was drunk. "I love you. I wanna make you happy. If we just _tried_..."

"You're drunk and you're not thinking straight," she gently told him. "You told me I was right, remember? We both agreed that we had to stop."

"No, I wasn't thinking straight _then_ ," he replied.

"Yes you were. And you'll remember that in the morning."

He made a frustrated sound then, one that made her heart throb even more than it already was. "I hate this."

"Me too," she muttered. _God_ , how she hated it.

"What if... what if I came over? Not tonight, but this week? We never had closure. Maybe if we just... one more time..."

"We wouldn't stop at one more time," she replied. "You _know_ we wouldn't. We'd be right back where we were."

"... Would that be so bad?" he asked, voice small and so broken that Summer was nearly in tears. "You were happy. I was happy. I was _so_ happy..."

"But... God," she sighed, furrowing her brows as her eyes watered. "I can't keep saying it over and over."

"Then don't," he said, though it was more of a plea than anything. "I need you, Summer, I... _fuck_. I'm better with you. I feel better, I sleep better. Even if I only saw you once a month or _something_ , I'd..."

"Please stop," she said, reaching up to wipe a tear from her face.

Apparently he could hear in her voice that she was crying, because the next thing out of his mouth was, "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

She did her best to stop, looking up at the ceiling and taking a calming breath. One more tear escaped her eye, but it was the last.

"I wish I was there next to you," he said a moment later. "I'd kiss you until you stopped crying."

"I know you would," she replied, her insides traitorously flipping just at the thought.

"It's been so long. I know it's been a month but it feels like it's been forever since the last time I touched you," he said, his voice nearly a groan at that point. "I miss you so much."

She didn't answer, because she had nothing to answer him with. He might have been the one desperate enough to drunk-call her and beg her to see him again, but she was desperate enough to listen and cling to the sound of his voice like it was a lifeline.

"Are you in bed?"

She almost laughed. "Um, _yeah_. You woke me up, remember?"

"Oh, right," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He waited a moment or two before asking in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, "What are you wearing?"

She looked down, her face flaring up at both the question and the answer. There was no way she was telling him. "Um..."

"Tell me."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because."

He paused. "You're wearing one of my shirts, aren't you?"

She couldn't get anything past him, even when he was drunk and across the whole damn city. "I... it's comfortable, and you never asked for it back."

He groaned into the phone. " _Fuck_ , Summer."

It didn't help that him cursing turned her on like a light switch. What he said next also didn't help.

"Do you think about me when you wear it?"

She thought about him _always_ , but he didn't need to know that. "Yes."

"Sometimes all I can think about when I'm trying to sleep is you," he admitted. "I lay here in my bed and I just see you laying next to me, or... riding me. You're so beautiful like that. You're always beautiful but you just don't know how _perfect_ you are when you're fucking me and getting yourself off."

She sunk into the pillows beneath her and died a little inside. She couldn't handle this. It was too much, and he _had_ to know that. "Bucky, what... what are you..."

"I miss the way that you blush like you don't know how fucking sexy you are," he said, and his cursing paired with the _nature_ of his words lit her up like a firework. "It's perfect. _You're_ perfect. You're blushing now, aren't you?"

"I... _yeah."_

"I just... _God_ , I want you so bad," he groaned. "Imagining you laying there in just my shirt..."

Then he groaned again, but this time it was the kind of sound she _knew_ the cause of without having to ask a single question. The way that his breath came noticeably more roughly after was more proof, and her mouth fell open as her entire body seemed to catch fire.

"Bucky?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, voice more strained than it had been before but just as low and lethal.

She couldn't breathe or think. "You're... are you..."

Rather than answer, he shot her a question of his own. "Do you want me to stop?"

She should have said yes and hung up. She was only torturing herself at this point, but when the pain felt as good as it hurt, she couldn't find the will to do it. "No. No, you don't have to stop."

"Can I ask you something?"

He sounded out of breath already. "Yeah."

"How wet are you right now?"

She covered her face with her hand and just barely stayed breathing. "I, uh... I don't know..."

"Then check for me."

She was so turned on and also embarrassed that she almost started inexplicably crying. "I don't have to. I can... feel it." She wasn't just saying that for effect. She just hadn't noticed until he'd said something about it.

"Fuck, baby," he said in a rough whisper, and she could just see him leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he said that. "I wish I could feel it for myself. Taste it too..."

She squirmed under her sheets, feeling like the room was a hundred degrees hotter than it should have been. "Bucky, we shouldn't be doing this."

"I know, I know," he said quickly, "but I need this. Please don't hang up."

"I won't," she replied, knowing that she wouldn't.

"Keep my shirt on," he said next. "Don't take it off."

"Okay," she blinked, not really expecting that, but at least it was an easy wish to grant.

"Now take your hand and just... pretend that it's mine. Pretend I'm there and touch yourself the way I would."

"Oh God," she muttered. "I can't do this."

"Yes you can, baby," he assured her. "It's so much easier for me to come when you're helping me. And I can help you too, you know I can. I'll do the talking, just let me hear the sounds you make. Don't be quiet."

"I... this is embarrassing," she said, still squirming and dying.

"No, Summer, it's not. I know how much you want it. You need it like I do."

God help her, she did. She really, _really_ did. "I... okay. Okay."

"Yeah?" he said, and she could _hear_ the grin on his face. "Okay. Okay, baby. Just listen to me and do everything I say."

"Okay," she breathed, awash with both excitement and fear, still unbelieving that this was happening but needing it just as badly as he had said. It was stupid and they were only hurting themselves, but they couldn't stop.

"Relax," he said, his voice in her ear smooth and full of want. "Lay back and just breathe."

He knew her so well. He knew that she was tense and nervous, and that this was what she needed before anything else.

After he'd heard her take a few deep breaths, he said, "Good. Now I want you to start touching yourself, but not _there_. Do it the way I would. Slowly, teasing. Up and down your legs, your thighs, your stomach, your breasts. Everywhere but where you really need it."

She whimpered before she even got started doing as he said. She cradled the phone to her ear to free up both of her hands, and then she was following his instructions, interestingly not feeling silly or embarrassed at all once she was actually doing it.

"How's that feel?" he asked after a moment or two, tone low and dark and _perfect_.

"Good, but..."

"But you need more?" he guessed. "Yeah, me too. I'm waiting for you now."

She stifled a whine. "You don't have to do that."

"Yeah I do. You always come first, sweetheart."

She exhaled heavily and let her head roll to the side. If she fell any more deeply in love with him, she'd simply just explode, she knew it.

"Okay. You can stop teasing yourself now," he said. " _Now_ you can touch yourself. But start slowly, just like I would."

A whine of relief was his answer, and her eyes rolled shut as she did what he said.

"Now tell me how wet you are."

"Very," she replied quietly, almost able to pretend that it really was him touching her with her eyes closed and his voice so near.

He groaned. "Where's your other hand?"

"Under my shirt," she replied shakily. "Your shirt." She paused and then forced out despite a twinge of embarrassment, "On my breast."

He moaned that time, and she knew that he was touching himself now again. Imagining him like that made her shudder and get even more caught up.

"Play with it," he told her. "Pinch it, flick it, like I do." When her moan told him that she obeyed, he murmured, "Fuck, I want you so bad."

She could only babble something incoherent back, a jumbled up mix of words that didn't make sense and weren't supposed to. He knew what she meant, and that was all that mattered.

"Faster, go faster," he said next, voice breathless and rough. She let out a gasp after following his orders, and the sounds coming from _him_ took her higher and higher.

"Bucky," she whined quietly, barely loud enough to carry into the phone.

"What, baby?"

"I love you," she said, the words spilling from her in an unstoppable wave of emotion that she couldn't hold back.

His voice was surprised and painfully full of feeling as he replied, "I love you too. I love you so much, Summer, _so fucking much_ , I hate this, I hate it so bad..."

She knew he didn't mean that he hated what they were doing, but rather the reasons why they were doing this over the phone rather than in person, in the same bed and in each other's arms. "I know, I do too. I'm sorry. I never _ever_ wanted to hurt you."

"I know, baby, I know," came his answer. "Just close your eyes. Picture me there with you. It's _my_ fingers on you, and my lips are on your neck. You're digging your nails into my back and moaning and _fuck_..."

She could see it all too well, feel it also, and she was incredibly close already. She'd been depriving herself, rarely in the mood and only wanting to be if she thought of him, but she couldn't ever bring herself to do it. It hurt too badly, just like she knew this would when it was over.

He didn't have that problem, as he admitted in his next string of words. "I can't come unless I think of you. I've tried, but I can't, and when I _do_ , Summer, it... it's nothing like being inside you but it lasts so long and I can't keep quiet even though I'm alone and there's nobody there to hear me."

Just _that_ almost sent her over the edge that she was teetering on. "Oh my _God_ , you're killing me."

"You're close, aren't you?" he asked, surely able to tell by the erratic way that she was speaking and moaning. "Don't hold back, I'm there, too. Come for me, baby, come hard for me. Say my name."

She could do nothing but obey, letting go and falling apart the minute the words reached her ears. His name was the only word on her lips, a sound mixed in with her moans that sent him right over with her, groaning roughly and loudly into the phone and making her pleasure last longer. It was powerful and perfect and she had needed it badly, but mostly, she had just needed _him_.

Neither of them said a word as they both came down from their highs. She realized that she was crying and likely had been since she had told him that she loved him. She could hear faint rustling over the phone, maybe of sheets or clothes or who knew what, but the sound of his breathing evening out was as familiar as it was comforting.

He was the first to speak. "I'm still so in love with you."

He said it like a confession, broken and dejected and still very drunk, and it broke her heart all over again. "So am I. This last month has been so hard, I've... I cry all the time and it sucks. We shouldn't have done this."

"I know," he replied. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm probably gonna hate myself in the morning for doing this to you."

"I could have hung up," she replied. "It was my choice. And... it was really, _really_... amazing."

She heard his little tired chuckle, and it made her smile. "I know you like it when I talk dirty, so..."

"That wasn't dirty, that was... _filthy_ ," she replied.

"Then you must have liked it even more," he chuckled again.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Just... wow. I don't know how you do that."

"You bring it out in me," he admitted. "I've never done that with anyone before. Over the phone. Not once."

She took a deep breath, smile fading and closing her eyes before she forced herself to say something she didn't want to. "It can't happen again."

He didn't argue. "I know. And I know it doesn't change anything."

"I wish it did," she replied quietly. "I _really_ do."

He was quiet for a moment, and she almost wondered if he'd passed out until he spoke. "I should probably let you go back to sleep."

"Yeah. I've got class at 7."

He groaned immediately. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry. You should have said something."

She shrugged. "I haven't talked to you in weeks, so... I figured it was worth losing sleep over."

He was quiet again for another few moments. "I love you, Summer."

"I love you too," she replied. "Drink some water before you crash, okay? And take medicine when you wake up."

"Yeah, sure thing," he chuckled. "Sorry I cost you you sleep."

"It's okay," she replied.

Another moment passed until he quietly and sweetly said, "Goodnight, Summer."

"Goodnight," she answered quietly, waiting until he hung up first to hang up herself. Once she did, she dropped the phone back to the bed and then stared at the ceiling as she tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.

She tried, but she couldn't quite manage to fall back asleep. She was awake when the sun came up, but she was no closer to figuring out what the hell to do now that _that_ had happened.

* * *

They passed each other in the halls again the next day. It was early afternoon, and Summer's heart stopped the minute their gazes connected. She could see it play out on his face, his surprise at seeing her and how much it hurt, especially after the previous night. She didn't know if it was shame or embarrassment that she saw in his eyes, maybe a little of both, but it didn't surprise her to see it there after he had sent her a text that morning apologizing again for his actions. She, of course, had responded that he had nothing to be sorry for, and she meant it.

They looked away as they passed each other, nobody knowing a thing but them. She didn't see his jaw clench and eyes briefly shut as he walked away, and he didn't see the way that she let out the breath she'd been holding and frown as a fresh new wave of pain made its way through her veins.

* * *

Bucky needed to talk to someone, and that someone ended up being Steve, who got a lot more than he bargained for when he'd told his friend that _sure, of course_ he could tell him anything.

"That's, uh... okay," Steve cleared his throat after hearing more than he would have preferred. They were in Steve's apartment, on his couch, and Bucky was staring miserably over the top of the beer in his hand as Steve shifted uncomfortably. "Lot of... details, but..."

"I can't stop thinking about her," Bucky muttered, oblivious to Steve's discomfort. "I want to call her again tonight but I know I shouldn't."

"Yeah, probably not the best idea," Steve nodded.

"Then what do I do?" Bucky asked. "I've tried _really hard_ to just move on but then last night happens and I'm just... I'm right back where I was."

"You need to talk to her," Steve said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the universe. "And not when you're drunk at two in the morning. You guys obviously have a lot of issues to work out, and you're not going to do that by, uh..."

"... Having drunk phone sex?" Bucky guessed in a monotone.

"Yes. That."

He took a drink of the beer and then muttered, "I feel like such a loser. I have this girl who loves me more than I can even fathom and all I do is make it worse and hurt her even more."

"Don't beat yourself up," Steve said. "It's a tough situation. But for what it's worth, you know I've always said that she was right. You guys should wait for each other."

Bucky groaned and gestured helplessly. "I can't ask her to do that. Put her life on hold for me."

"Why not?" Steve asked. "Sounds to me like she'd be okay with it. She loves you, Bucky. You said so yourself."

Bucky looked away, shaking his head slightly. "I know, but... I just feel like a selfish bastard."

"But you're not a selfish bastard," Steve replied, smiling slightly. "Just talk to her. It can't hurt anything."

Bucky begged to differ. But he didn't have any other ideas, so he figured he'd give it a try after he worked his nerve back up following the previous night's... events.

Which he was pretty sure might take awhile.

* * *

Darcy stared at Summer for a long moment, glasses down on the bridge of her nose and one eyebrow arched. Then she stuck a spoon full of ice cream into her mouth, ate it, and dropped the spoon back into the bowl, all without breaking her determined stare.

Summer blinked and waited for Darcy to say something. It took awhile, but it finally happened.

"Sorry," Darcy said. "I'm still trying to get used to the fact that you were banging this guy for a year. Now you're telling me that a month after you broke up with him, he drunk-called you and it led to spontaneous and ridiculously hot phone sex."

"... That's basically it, yeah," Summer nodded.

Darcy squinted. "And this is a bad thing... how?"

Summer groaned and dropped her head on to the table. " _Darcy_..."

"What? I mean, okay, you're broken up, and I totally get why, by the way. But you're both obviously still all gross in love with each other, so why not? The chances of getting caught doing _that_ are like slim to none."

"Because it hurts, that's why not," Summer said, lifting her head back up. "It was torture."

"Didn't sound like torture when you were describing how he sounded on the phone while you guys... you know... did your thing."

"Okay, let me rephrase: it was extremely sexy torture."

Darcy shrugged. "Well... I know this is going to sound shocking, and it's a totally, like, revolutionary idea, but... have you considered _talking_ to him? And by talking I don't mean being all 'ooh, now I'm taking off my clothes, and I'm kissing down your chest, ohh baby yeah right there'. I mean actual serious talking."

Summer laughed before she managed to form a response. "First of all, that is _not_ how it went. And yeah, I guess you're right, I just... I don't know. He still makes me so nervous, you know? He's so intense and he _feels_ so much and I just feel like I'm gonna make it worse or let him down or... I don't know."

"Yeah, I doubt you'll do any of those things. Just have a really honest open talk and figure things out. In person. Like adults."

"Adults," Summer muttered, still only feeling like one of those when she had to pay a bill or take her truck in for an oil change. The rest of the time, she usually felt like a bewildered teenager in the midst of actual grown ups.

"Hey, if you're old enough to have hot phone sex with a professor, you're old enough to have a serious talk with said professor about your future together."

Summer sighed. "Yeah, you make a good point. I guess I'll do it."

"Good. And preferably some time this year."

Summer nodded. "Definitely."

"Good stuff. Now, tell me again about all the filthy things he said."

"I barely told you anything," she laughed.

"Exactly. You've gotta give me _something_."

Summer shook her head and grinned. "Nope. I don't kiss and tell. Uh... phone sex and tell."

Darcy groaned and threw a chocolate chip at her. "You suck!"

Summer laughed and dodged another flying chocolate chunk, dreading the talk that she knew had to happen and having no idea of how to start it. She decided not to think about it for awhile, and figure it out when she was in a less compromised frame of mind.

Which she was pretty sure might take awhile.

* * *

Another month passed. There were no more drunken calls in the middle of the night, and no chance encounters that gave either of them a chance to say anything beyond a quick hello to each other once or twice a week. Neither of them quite knew how to go about doing what they both knew needed to be done, so they waited for something to happen to solve the problem for them. Of course, life rarely worked that way, so by the end of the month, one of them finally decided that enough was enough.

It was Bucky who stepped up. Summer had no idea of what he had planned, going about a closing shift at work as she ever did, fueled on caffeine and counting down the minutes until she could get home and put her feet up before crashing for the night. Bucky was the last thing on her mind for once as she restocked a cartful of books, putting them away one by one and fixing books that were misplaced along the way.

She was sliding a particularly heavy book into its correct place when a quiet voice from behind her nudged her out of her work-induced autopilot haze. "Excuse me, Miss, but I think the wifi password's changed since the last time I was here."

Her heart thudded at those very mundane words, all because of the voice that she instantly recognized. She shoved the book all the way on the shelf and then turned around, briefly forgetting to breathe when she came face to face with a smiling and casually dressed Bucky. "Oh, _hi_ ," she smiled like an idiot, his face literally the last that she expected to see that night.

"Hi," he smiled back, hands in his pockets but visibly _not_ relaxed. He was as nervous as she suddenly was.

"Have grading to do?" she asked conversationally, forcing herself not to think of the last time they'd spoken for longer than three seconds.

"Yeah, and a few other things," he shrugged. Then he glanced around them and asked more quietly, "I was actually wondering if I could talk to you when you get off."

Her smile faded at that, and she watched mild panic appear in his eyes when he saw it happen. "Oh. Um... what... about?"

He licked his lips, shifting on his feet and glancing down at the floor before shrugging. "... Everything?"

"Okay," she nodded, relieved that it was finally happening. "Yeah. I've got like two hours left until closing, but..."

"I'll wait," he replied quickly. "If that's okay."

"It's okay. Oh, and the password's bookworm15."

His lips quirked up at that. "Bookworm15?"

"Yeah, don't ask. It was actually me who reset it, and it was the first thing that popped into my head."

"It works," he shrugged. "I'll see you when you're off?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and he smiled at her one more time before heading back to the little sitting area. Her smile faded again as she watched him walk away. What had she just gotten herself into?

She spent the next two hours wondering just that, unable to think of anything else and sneaking glances at him every chance that she got. Their eyes met a few times, and each time it happened she saw things in his gaze that made her heart race and hands shake before they had even started their _talk_. He looked at her like he always had, with both pure, sweet affection and heat that gave her skin break out in goosebumps. She imagined that she looked much less affecting, probably just wide-eyed and scared and not at all as desirable as he seemed to find her, but she couldn't do a lot about that.

He waited patiently for her to lock up, and she managed to get most of her closing procedures done beforehand to save time. Once the time rolled around, she locked the doors and then glanced over towards where he was to find him watching her. His laptop was put away and he seemed very ready to get it over with - whatever _it_ was - and she took a steadying breath before heading his way.

The sitting area was in front of the historical non-fiction sections, so biographies of dead presidents and powerful figures provided the background as she began to sit down in the chair closest to his. He stood up before she could sit, however, and she thought it was odd but kept her mouth shut anyway.

"So," she smiled, standing there awkwardly. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Do you want to leave first?"

"I still have like two things to do in the back," she explained.

"Oh. I could wait," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but if we leave here and go somewhere, then I might... or _we_ might..." She looked up at him as she trailed off, and he seemed to get it.

"Right. Okay. That's fine." He then sat back down, and she did as well.

Now that they were off to a fantastically awkward start, Summer sat there and kept silent as he looked her over. "You look great."

She glanced down at herself, supposing that her floral knee-length skirt and black top was good enough. "Thank you. You too."

He chuckled at that, maybe because he was just in jeans and a t-shirt. But she meant it, because both things fit his body _very_ well. "Thanks. So, uh... how have you been?"

"Good," she replied honestly. "I got a raise."

He smiled. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yup. 75 cents."

"Not bad," he nodded back approvingly.

"Yeah. I mean, I won't be catching up with you anytime soon, but... maybe one day."

"I have no doubt. Once you get a book written, you'll leave me in the dust," he smiled, and she couldn't help but scoff.

"Yeah, we'll see," she smiled. "But... I don't think you came here to make small talk, so..."

His expression became more serious then, and he nodded before turning his gaze to the floor and briefly chewing his bottom lip. She watched the motion a little too closely, more than willing to nibble it for him if he wanted. Then she forced the thought away just as he began to speak. "No, I just... I wanted to try to talk to you about a few things. It kind of feels like there's a lot we've never said, and I think that maybe we should."

This seemed simple enough so far. "Okay. Like what?"

He hesitated. "Well... about the last time I called you..."

She stopped him right there. "We really don't need to talk about it. I get why it happened, and I wanted it to happen, so we can really just leave it at that."

"Yeah, except... I said some things," he said quietly. "A lot of things."

She knew which things he was speaking of. The desperate declarations of love and how badly he needed her, in many more ways than just the physical sense. "Did you not... mean them, or..."

"Oh no, I meant them," he quickly assured her. "I still mean them."

"Oh."

They were quiet for a moment, until he made himself keep the conversation moving. "I don't think either of us are happy with the way things have been."

She shook her head, seeing no reason to argue that. "Yeah. Definitely not."

"I just wanted to know if maybe... maybe you wanted to try to figure out a way to... try again."

Her heart skipped a beat before feeling as if it was sinking in her chest. She unconsciously sat back further in her seat, as if to put more distance between them. "Please don't tell me you came here to talk about that. You _know_ we can't."

"No, Summer, just please hear me out."

She huffed and stood up, suddenly needing to get away and unable to believe that this was mostly just a repeat of his drunken call so far. "I can't hear you out, Bucky," she muttered before turning around and starting to head back the way that she had come.

"Summer," he said, following her stubbornly but with enough distance between them to still give her space. When she ignored him, he said once more with a bit more force, " _Summer_."

" _What_?" she snapped, whipping around and mustering up her best glare. It stopped him in his tracks. "Why did you come here? Just to torture me some more? Because you _know_ that's what this is."

He shook his head adamantly. "No, that's not why I'm here. I never want to hurt you, you should know that."

"Then why would you even _say_ that?" she asked somewhat desperately. "Nothing's changed."

"I know."

She lifted her arms and then let them drop. "Then why even... ugh."

She turned around again, irrationally angry and just wanting to get away from him, but he said her name again and reached out to gently take her arm. She whipped around again and yanked her arm away as if his touch burned, and he took a step back and widened his eyes at her reaction.

She'd never seen him retreat so quickly or so _shamefully_ , like he thought painfully little of himself as he dropped his hands and took another step away from her. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Not if you were just gonna ask me to do something I can't," she replied bluntly, shaking a little with how frank she was being, but it was necessary.

"You won't even listen to me," he muttered. "You don't know what I was going to ask."

She stared at him, thinking of all the times over the last two months that she had wished that he was this close to her, and yet here she was, pushing him away. "It doesn't matter. Nothing's different. You're just making it harder on us. Again."

He clenched his jaw and looked at her in a way that she instantly knew she deserved. "I apologized for calling you more times than I can even count. You literally _just_ said that you wanted what happened."

"I did want it," she replied helplessly. "I want it and... way more, but I can't have it, so what's the point?"

He couldn't seem to come up with an answer to that. After a silence that spoke louder than any words could, Summer decided that they'd talked enough and turned around for the third time. But this time he didn't just reach out and take her arm. He caught up with her and stopped her by placing both hands on her upper arms, and she closed her eyes when she felt him standing behind her, not close enough to touch but still close enough to feel.

" _Please_ stop running away from me," he murmured close to her ear, and the sound of his voice sent a thrill through her veins that she had no hope of stopping.

"What else am I supposed to do?" she asked, opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him. He was so close and yet so far that it hurt, and his hands on the bare skin of her arms were cruel. "You can't keep doing this."

"I know," he groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead on her temple. "I'm sorry."

He smelled just like she remembered. His lips were so close, his eyes shut and his hands sliding up to her shoulders, and though her brain screamed at her not to do it, she turned in his arms to face him. His eyes opened when she did it, but she didn't dare meet his gaze just yet. Instead she placed her hands on his chest, unsure of whether she wanted to pull him closer or push him away. One of his hands went to her hair, gently winding into it as his thumb swiped against her cheek along the way, while his other hand ended up on her waist. She still didn't know what to do.

She closed her eyes when he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. " _God_ , I've missed you so much."

Her heart ached at both his words and proximity, but she still hadn't pushed him away yet. Her hands tightened into fists, grabbing two small handfuls of his shirt, and then she felt his lips on her neck. It was only a tiny, sweet kiss that he laid there, but it felt to her like gasoline on a fire. He didn't stop with one, and as he kissed softly along her neck, she clutched tighter at his shirt and tried not to lose her head.

His hand on her waist moved to the small of her back, and she whimpered when his lips paid particular attention to a spot under her ear that he _knew_ she loved. It made her hands grow restless, and before she knew it, her fingers were in his hair and she was leaning her head to the side to encourage his attentions.

She knew it was stupid. She knew this made her a glutton for punishment, a masochist of the least intelligent variety, but she was in love and two months without this man had felt like an eternity.

He kissed her neck like it might be the last time he would ever have the chance to touch her. It felt like it went on forever, and by the time he raised his head and leaned his forehead against hers, she was breathless and too needy to push him away.

Their lips were only a few breaths apart, but they didn't touch even when he leaned in closer and exhaled against her lips like it was killing him to hold himself back.

"There's cameras," she whispered, and when the words left her mouth, a shiver of surprise shot down her spine. Her eyes opened and met his, and he looked down at her lips as if they were a drink of water in the middle of a barren desert.

"Where?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Everywhere," she replied. "Except that corner over there. In the history section."

She pointed, and he glanced behind them and took note of the corner in question. Then he turned back to her, and after seeing the purpose and clear desire in her eyes, he said in a low, already needy tone, "You have to be sure about this. I won't touch you if you're not."

She shook her head, letting her hands run down his chest. She opened her mouth, intending to convince him that she really did want this, but then she decided that actions spoke louder than words. So, without a word, she gave him a look and then stepped around him, walking towards the surveillance-free corner.

Halfway there, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. Like there was an invisible line tethered between them, tugging him to her, he started following her without taking his eyes off of her even once. She turned around once she was almost there, walking backwards the rest of the way so that they could lock eyes, and her heart hammered harder against her chest at the suddenly dark, predatory way that he was staring at her as he stalked closer.

She kept walking until her back hit the corner bookshelf, watching him close in on her and reaching out for him as soon as she could. He did the same, and then he was descending upon her with a fury, pressing her hard to the shelf and kissing her in a way that had them both moaning quietly in sheer, blessed relief.

She almost started crying the moment their lips touched. It felt so good and so painful at the same time that it rendered her brain useless, short-circuiting it and leaving it for dead along with logic or any other pesky thing that could have brought the moment to an end. His hands went to her hair first, then her face and finally her hips, and before even a full moment had passed, he was pulling up her skirt and sliding his hands up her thighs, like he couldn't get close to her nearly fast enough. They kissed almost sloppily all the while, breathless and rough but sweet at the same time, all of it mind boggling but perfect and yet ultimately doomed.

He groaned her name against her lips when her hands slid up under his shirt, confirming something she'd noticed when he had first pressed his chest against hers. He'd always been fit and strong, but now he felt a bit like a rock under her fingertips, more defined now and noticeably bigger since the last time they'd been together. She felt him until she had to see for herself, breaking the kiss and then impatiently yanking up his shirt. He gladly obliged her, letting the shirt fall to the floor and watching her stare at his torso a bit wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

" _Damn_ ," she marveled, hands and eyes glued to his chest and abdomen until his finger tipped her chin up. Seeing amusement in his eyes, she asked, "You didn't start taking steroids, did you?"

He shook his head. "No. Just had more time on my hands than usual."

She gulped and then closed her eyes as he kissed her, not only because of the kiss but also because of the fact that while he had apparently taken out his frustrations at the gym, she had taken hers out over ice cream and way too many carbs. She carried a little more than five extra pounds on her frame now, but her nervousness fell away when she realized how perfectly fine he was with this. His hands were _everywhere_ , touching and grabbing and squeezing everything he could reach, and she was already a writhing mess against him.

Her top was the next article of clothing to hit the floor, and she watched his eyes drop heavily to her chest and the simple but revealing black bra that she wore. It was like there was a magnet drawing his mouth there, and his hands palmed and dragged ineffectually at the bra until she gave him a hand and reached behind her back, undoing the clasp and dropping it to the floor. He groaned with gratitude and then spent so long kissing and all but worshipping her breasts that it seemed like a separate, joyous reunion all of its own, and she would have laughed about it had she been capable of it at that moment.

When he finally moved on after thoroughly driving her insane, he trailed his mouth down to her stomach and snuck his hands up her skirt again. He pulled her underwear down and, after she stepped out of it, she watched him continue to kiss her skin as he shoved the fabric in the back pocket of his jeans rather than throw it with the rest of their clothes. Then he was down on his knees before her, nearly frantically yanking up her skirt so that he could put his mouth on her, and it was so sudden and determined and perfect that she nearly lost her balance and fell at the first touch. But he held her steady, and she held on to his hair for dear life as he satisfied one of _his_ desires that he'd mentioned during that phone call weeks before.

She was loud and shaky and unbalanced as she lost her mind, holding his head _too_ close as she rode it out, but the way that he moaned told her that he didn't mind. When it was over, he only stopped when he absolutely had to, and then he shot back up to his feet as she sagged against the bookshelf and slowly calmed down.

When she opened her eyes, he was softly running his fingers through her now-wrecked hair, and she could see that he was a bit of a mess. She was embarrassed for all of two seconds, until his tongue darted from his lips and licked along the corners of his mouth and the lengths of each slightly swollen lip, all while he stared at her like he hadn't even _begun_ to devour her yet.

She whimpered and pulled him to her, kissing him with renewed zeal and moaning when he wasted no time in reaching his hands down and picking her up. Her legs wrapped around his hips and he ground her into the wood behind her, their kisses mad with passion and patience nonexistent as things seemed to start moving fast. Her hands went between them and unfastened his jeans, and the very moment that they were far enough out of the way, he had slammed into her and made the entire shelf behind her rattle against the wall with the force of the sudden thrust.

She yelped and he immediately stopped, eyes flying open and voice shaky as he asked in sudden panic, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She quickly shook her head, though it _had_ hurt. But that didn't mean that it hadn't also felt even more amazing for the pain. "I'm okay. I'm fine, I swear."

"I'm sorry," he said, brushing a feather-light kiss over her lips in apology. Then, still holding himself perfectly still, he groaned, "Fuck, Summer, you feel so good."

She had been relieved that he'd been fairly silent until that point, but once he got going with the _talking_ , she knew he'd never stop. She was both terrified and painfully excited over what that could mean for her _this_ particular time.

He started moving again, though much more slowly and carefully at first. They both let out quiet, heavy breaths at the relief of it, and then Bucky leaned in and kissed under her ear before groaning, "You're so _tight_ , like the very first time... _fuck_..."

Holding on to him and doing her best to keep her legs locked around him, she moaned as he started to move a little faster, rocking with him and meeting his thrusts as she kissed his neck and his jaw. She felt like she was home after a long time away, and she wasn't the only one with emotions swelling to the surface.

Supporting her with one arm, he used his free hand to reach behind his neck and take one of hers off of him. He then intertwined their fingers and pressed her hand to the shelf, opening his eyes and looking at her with adoration and burning lust as he murmured, "I love you so much, sweetheart."

She could barely hold herself together between the _way_ that he had said those words and the way that he looked at her. She believed him with everything she had in her, and it was a sledgehammer to her already-battered heart. "I love you too."

He smiled in a broken, miserable sort of way before kissing her, then speeding up and taking her faster. He broke the kiss only a moment later to plead in a whisper that made her chest ache, "Say it again."

"I love you," she told him again, squeezing his hand tighter and kissing his cheek. She kissed her way to his ear, saying it again and again, meaning it more each time and _feeling_ what it did to him to hear her say it. He held her tighter, moaned louder and buried his face in her neck as she curled her free hand into a fist in his hair. The bookshelf was rattling again and her back was going to be bruised from smacking against the wood so harshly, but she barely even noticed the sting of pain amid the much more overwhelming pleasure.

She thought that she was going to be okay until he lifted his head again, kissed her with the kind of desperation that she felt just as deeply as he did, and then opened his eyes to ask her in a voice so small and hopeful that it killed her just as badly as the words he spoke. "Say you're mine."

She looked at him in dismay, shaking her head and closing her eyes so that his expression couldn't break her anymore than it already had. " _Bucky_..."

"Please," he begged, kissing her once, then twice. " _Please,_ baby, say it for me. I know it's a lie, _I know_ it is, but just let me believe it for a little bit."

She closed her eyes tighter, feeling a wave of tears crash behind them at those words. He was cradling her face now, trying to coax her into opening her eyes, but she didn't want him to see how very badly she was hurting, not when she also felt so _good_ and was getting closer to her end with each new perfect movement of his within her.

After he begged her a few more times, she finally felt herself lose the will to deny him _anything_. She opened her eyes, meeting his as a tear fell to her cheek and her voice wobbled as she said, "I'm yours, Bucky."

"Don't cry, baby," he whispered, face falling at the sight of the tear. He kissed it away, then murmured, "Say it again."

"I'm yours," she said, heaping the torture on them both and burying them alive underneath it. "And you're mine."

He groaned, closing his eyes and letting go of her hand to grip the wood and use it to steady himself as he picked up the pace even more. " _Yours_."

"Mine," she moaned against his ear, knowing she couldn't hold on much longer. He knew it too, and that was why he then slowed down and tried to drag it out as long as he possibly could.

It was torture. She had thought that the phone call was torture, but this was so, _so_ immeasurably, unimaginably worse.

"Bucky," she whined, scratching at his back as he kept her dangling on the edge, stopping or slowing down just enough to yank her back every time she got close.

"I don't want to let you go," he admitted, his forehead against hers. "I don't want this to be over."

She whined incoherently, and the next thing she knew, it was her turn to beg him. Just as she couldn't say no to him, he couldn't say no to her, and finally, after far too long of holding back, they let go.

She was too far gone to be embarrassed over the fact that she _screamed_ , and she was hardly the only vocal one present. The emotions and sadness and love that had made it all so exquisitely miserable made the ending all the more powerful, and she wasn't surprised to end up regaining her full consciousness on the floor, in his arms, cradled to his body.

His back was to the wall, and she was half-draped over him with her head on his chest. Everything was quiet aside from the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat, fluttering wildly still but slowly calming as they clung to each other.

She was crying on him, and she knew that he felt it. He tried to shush her by kissing her forehead sweetly and running his fingers through her hair, but when she could take no more, she sat up and let everything she had been holding in come rushing out.

"I can't do this," she half-sobbed, vision blurry from the tears blocking it. "I can't. It hurts too much. This is _horrible_."

"Hey," he said softly, reaching out for her. She didn't fight him or try to stop him from pulling her back to him. "I know."

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes as he watched her carefully. "That... this is killing me. You can't just... you can't..."

"I know. I'm sorry." His own eyes watery, he clenched his jaw and and muttered, "I keep hurting you and I swear it's the last thing I want to do. I just couldn't stay away. I _couldn't_."

"But you have to," she replied, trying to get ahold of herself. "If this happened again, I'd..." She shook her head. "You _have_ to stay away."

His face was pained and yet hopeful as he replied, "What if I _didn't_?"

She couldn't handle this. "Don't say that again, Bucky, _oh my God_. Why would you even -"

"I mean in the future," he clarified. "After you've graduated."

She paused, searching his eyes carefully. "What do you mean?"

He reached his hand gently up to her face, cupping the side of it as he said after a moment's hesitation, "What I mean is... I'll wait as long as I have to, to be with you. To _really_ be with you."

Her eyes widened. "You mean..."

He nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah. I won't even _look_ at other women. I already don't. I haven't since before you. _Long_ before you." He then swallowed, brushing his thumb over her cheek as he told her sincerely, "I'd wait a lot longer than a year and a half for you."

She was shocked. Even knowing how much he loved her, she truly had not thought that he would be willing to do that. Once she fully realized that he was serious, she smiled and asked, "You'd really do that?"

He nodded. Then he asked, "Will _you_ wait for me?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Oh my God, yes."

He smiled so brightly one might have thought she had just accepted a proposal, and it made her own smile grow even more while also lifting some of the heaviness from her shoulders. _This_ wasn't so bad. _This_ , she could deal with. _They_ could deal with it, because they were more than worth it.

They kissed softly and sweetly, and Summer broke away only to look at him through her tear-stained eyes and grin, "A year and a half."

"It's nothing," he grinned back. He gestured to the mess they'd made and said, "We can't keep doing _this_. But once you're graduated..."

"... We can be together. _Really_ together," she said, almost unable to believe that such a thing was even possible. "Maybe I can take some extra classes over the summer. I could get done even earlier."

"I'll wait as long as it takes," he assured her. "I promise."

"Me too," she replied, still smiling. It wouldn't be easy, but neither was anything in life worth having. If she knew that he would be hers one day fairly soon, then she could handle staying away from him. She could handle only seeing little glimpses of him here and there, and avoiding repeats of what they had just done in the library, if it meant truly being his and his alone when they were no longer dangers to one another.

Though her heart was still heavy and she knew that his was too, she smiled sweetly and kissed him one more time before they gathered up their clothes and got ready to leave. It was possibly their last kiss for a very, very long time, but it wouldn't be their last ever. She had thought that their story was already over, and yet, that night on the floor of a closed library, they both knew that it was really only just getting started.

All they had to do was _wait_.


	5. Epilogue

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY that it took me this long to write this epilogue. Ack! I have a million excuses including writing a Daredevil story that distracted me and keeping my monster of a fic Life After Death regularly updated, plus life and school and all those lovely things, but I'll spare you guys all of that and just apologize one more time for taking FOUR MONTHS to do this. I hope it makes up for the wait, and thank you all SO MUCH for reading this story and giving such great feedback on it. You guys have NO IDEA how much it means to me to have this story, which rattled around in my head for so long and I tried to ignore for even longer, to be so well-received. I love you ALL and thank you SO MUCH, and if anyone wants more of this story now that it's over, just send me a message or leave a review since I can PROBABLY be talked into writing a oneshot or two here or there :D thank you all again, and I greatly look forward to your feedback! Happy holidays! :D**

A year and a half was a long time to wait for someone when you were desperately in love with them, but despite it all, Bucky and Summer held on even when it felt like their time apart would never end.

At first, when they had first reached the end of their respective ropes and agreed while tangled together on the floor of a library to wait for Summer's graduation to be together, it had been easy. They'd found the light at the end of the tunnel, and rather than simply drift about miserable and alone, they had a goal to work towards. They didn't have to be apart forever. Summer just had to get her degree, and then when she was no longer a student at the university that Bucky taught at, nothing would stop them from being together.

But then, after the first few months passed and they began to miss each other on a level even deeper than that of before, they began to realize just how hard it was going to be. Though she was no longer in his class and hadn't been for some time, they still crossed paths in the hallways and at times the parking lot. Each time it happened and just the shortest few moments of eye contact happened, it would get harder and harder to walk away and not give in to the constant desire to sneak in one more little meeting somewhere.

They both knew how easy it would be. Just one call or one text, sent when they were both feeling particularly weak and missing each other enough to give in, and for a night they'd have each other once more. Nobody would ever know.

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that, like addicts, they knew they couldn't stop at just once. One night would turn into the next morning and that morning would inevitably lead to another night until they were back in the same mess that had already gotten them caught once. And the chances of still getting away with it this time around and keeping their secret safe were incredibly low, maybe even impossible.

They simply had to stay away from each other, and each month, each time they saw each other, it got harder.

Summer threw herself into her studies, determined to finish her degree as soon as possible. She worked through the summer and did everything she could to accelerate her graduation. Bucky, in the same spirit, worked himself into near-constant exhaustion to keep himself busy and distracted.

At their lower points, they'd wonder if the other still cared or maybe had finally had enough waiting and moved on with someone else. Once, about six months into their wait, Bucky walked past Summer in the hallway talking to one of her male classmates, laughing and not noticing Bucky until he was nearly gone. She'd seen the look in his eye a she caught a glimpse of him walking away, the worry that was hidden to the world but obvious to her, and she hadn't been surprised to get a text from him later on that day. She assured him that the guy was just a friend, and he believed her.

Summer had to deal with her own similar issues a few months after that, when she'd walked by Bucky having lunch with one of his students, who happened to be a reasonably pretty female. She even looked a little like Summer, tall and brunette with a shapely figure, and Summer could tell from a mile away that the girl had the same thoughts about Bucky that Summer had when she'd been his student.

Not that Summer could blame her, of course, but that didn't stop her from wanting to stab the girl's eyes out with a plastic salad fork.

Bucky had ended up discreetly following Summer to her truck later that day and assured her before she could even ask that he was only helping the girl with her final assignment. Deep down, Summer hadn't truly doubted his fidelity for a minute, especially when it came to another student. But it was easy for her fears to run amok in such a complicated situation.

He had briefly held her hand in his own, after making sure that nobody could see, and then slipped away to his own car after telling her quietly and sincerely that he was counting the days until he could be with her again. She'd gotten in her truck with tears threatening to build behind her eyes, but she kept herself in check and reminded herself that she wasn't even halfway to the finish line yet.

It was torture. Their entire relationship had been, to various degrees and in various ways, torture from the very beginning. But she never once considered giving up or taking up any of her male acquaintances on the dates they occasionally asked her out on. She was in love, claimed already by a man who held her heart in his war-scarred hand, and that would never change.

Bucky felt the exact same way and also never strayed, even at his weakest moments.

And though they had to keep their distance from one another, they each found ways to let the other know how very important they were and how much they thought about each other. When Summer's birthday came around, Bucky sent her a card in the mail that came with an honest to God _love letter_ tucked inside. She hadn't even thought that men wrote those anymore, let alone young men, but he apparently did and the words that he wrote in that letter melted her to the ground and left her utterly stunned. The letter became one of her most prized possessions, and she read it over and over until each word had been forever memorized in her heart.

Then, when _his_ birthday came, she had what she knew to be his favorite photo of them together printed and framed. She sent it to his apartment along with a note wishing him a happy birthday and telling him how much she loved him, and how much she looked forward to hopefully spending his next birthday with him.

She kept his card and love letter in the drawer of her beside table, so that she could pull it out and reread it when she couldn't sleep. He kept her picture on his dresser, where he could see it as he laid in bed at night, just before he fell asleep.

Their friends who were in the loop - Darcy for Summer, Steve and Natasha for Bucky - could only sigh and support their lovesick puppy friends and help them countdown the weeks until graduation day.

And though it felt like an absolute eternity, that day _did_ finally come. After months of rigid self control and enough academic focus to burn anyone out on school for the rest of their lives, Summer at last finished her final classes and accumulated all of the credits needed to get her bachelor's degree. That was enough to leave her overjoyed and endlessly excited all on its own, after all the work that she had put in and the difficult road she'd taken to get where she finally was. But knowing that Bucky was waiting on the other side only made her even _more_ ecstatic.

She met Darcy and Esteban at the formal commencement ceremony, the three of them squealing together and rejoicing over the end of their college journey together. Darcy had tentative plans to continue on for her Master's and Summer and Esteban couldn't rule out an eventual return of their own someday, but for the time being, they were done and it was time to receive the reward for all of their hard work.

They sat together during the ceremony, proudly sporting the traditional cap and gown, waiting for their names to be called once the final part of the ceremony began. For Summer, who had very little family and none who were able to come that day, her family consisted of those by her side and, just maybe, a certain face in the crowd, over where the faculty was seated.

She didn't look his way too much, just to be safe, but just before they called her name, she glanced his way and caught his eye. It only lasted a moment, but the way that he smiled at her and looked so deeply into her eyes from so far away left her breathless. She smiled back, then smiled even wider when it was her turn to walk.

It was, at that point, the proudest moment of her life to walk across the stage and take the certificate with her name on it, the proof of her hard work, even though her real degree would be coming in the mail about a month later. It was the end of one chapter and the start of another, one that would take her to new places and, if she was lucky, be shared with the certain Professor of Advanced Linguistics who was clapping for her and smiling with just enough pride to not raise any suspicions.

Their eyes met one more time, and her heart nearly burst with elation.

They had made it.

* * *

"Oh my God," Darcy exclaimed excitedly as she thrust out her red disposable cup, "fill this sucker up because I am getting drunk out of my _mind_ tonight."

Summer laughed as she watched Darcy get her cup filled indeed to the brim with some kind of dubious but strong concoction, then take a big drink of it and nearly choke as she forced it down. They had headed straight from the commencement ceremony to a quick dinner out, and now they were at a graduation party being thrown at the considerably large home of Esteban's new and wealthy - and older - Italian boyfriend, Nicolo. One simply did not graduate without immediately celebrating with copious amounts of alcohol, after all. Those were the rules.

Summer, however, kept her consumption light and her head on straight, and she checked her phone often enough to get asked by Esteban as he pranced over to her and laid his head on her shoulder, "What are you doing? Why are you looking over and over at your phone instead of drinking and finding a drunk frat boy to hook up with?"

Darcy ended up on her other shoulder before Summer could answer, throwing her arm around her shoulders and replying, "She's waiting for her secret boyfriend to text her and she's freaking out because he hasn't yet."

Summer's eyes widened and she jerked her phone down from the prying eyes. " _Darcy_!"

Esteban's brows shot up. "Secret boyfriend? What secret boyfriend?"

"Can't we tell him now? You're graduated," Darcy pointed out, taking another swig of her drink.

"I... I mean, I guess, but not when there's all these _people_ around..." Summer said, eyeing the other students hanging around the kitchen they were standing in the doorway of, then at the others who were dancing and mingling in the large living room and the deck outside.

"Seriously, what secret boyfriend?" Esteban pressed.

Summer lifted up her phone and checked her texts again, still finding nothing. She was starting to worry. Shouldn't he have texted her by now? Was he just busy? She'd texted him after the ceremony but he still hasn't answered, and that was odd for him. He usually replied within minutes at the _latest_.

Next to her head, Darcy choked again, only this time a lot more loudly. She then coughed and replied to Esteban, " _That_ secret boyfriend."

Esteban and Summer's heads jerked up at the exact same moment. Esteban dropped the drink in his hand to the floor and let out a high pitched squeal of pure shock as his jaw dropped and his hand landed on his chest dramatically. Summer, however, felt her own instant shock fade in favor of deep warmth and pure, nearly overflowing happiness at the sight of her _secret boyfriend_ standing there, just outside of the kitchen, his eyes instantly fixed wholly upon her and nothing else.

He looked so good it nearly hurt. He was dressed nice but not _too_ nicely to stand out, in dark pants and a dark blue button down shirt that was undone at the top, his hands in his pockets and blue eyes somehow even bluer than she remembered. He stopped just short of the kitchen, obviously unsure of how to proceed and giving her the choice in how this was going to happen.

Summer shoved both her phone and her drink in Esteban's hands. Darcy smiled and patted her shoulder, then let her go. Summer then smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky once as she put one foot in front of the other, until she was almost _running_ right to him.

His cautious expression gave way to an open, uncontrollably _real_ smile as his arms opened and she launched herself into them, wrapping her own arms around his neck and hugging him like her very life depended on it. He held her tightly in turn, closing his eyes as his nose brushed against her hair, jaw clenching like he was trying to hold himself together and _not_ let the whole house how very desperately in love he was with the woman.

"That's... the secret boyfriend?" Esteban said in disbelief, still nearly on the verge of cardiac arrest.

"Yup," Darcy smiled, looking on happily. "Aren't they adorable?"

"You _knew_ about this?" he gasped, scandalized.

"Well, I walked in on them doing it like... forever ago. Like a year and eight months ago." Esteban turned and gaped at her, and she merely shrugged and said, "It's a long story. And let me tell you, his _ass_ is A+."

As Esteban nearly had stroke, Summer soaked up the way that Bucky held her and the way that he felt, the way that he _smelled_ , and she didn't want to let go. But, when she eventually had to, she pulled away with a huge smile on her face and her emotions laid out clear on her face for him to see. " _Hi_."

He grinned, his own feelings on display as much as hers were. "Hey."

"You came here," she said quietly, biting her lip. "I thought that with all the people and students here..."

He leaned in a little closer to her and said loud enough for only her to hear, "We don't have to hide like we did before."

At _that_ blessed truth, Summer smiled so widely and genuinely that it brought out an identical one on Bucky's face. She would have grabbed his face and kissed him right there if doing such a thing wouldn't have been pushing her luck.

But Darcy, ever thoughtful even when she was halfway to shitfaced, sauntered up to them and tapped Summer's shoulder. "You know, there's a couple empty bedrooms back there." She gestured to a hallway to the right, and then she smiled up at Bucky. "Hey, Professor."

He smiled back and nodded. "Miss Lewis."

She looked at Summer and then said, "It's good to see you smile again. I'm like... super happy for you both. Seriously. But you might want to wait like... a month or two... before you break out the PDA."

"Thanks, Darcy," Summer chuckled, blushing a little. Darcy winked at her and then headed back to Esteban, who was still shellshocked and incapable of believing what he was seeing.

Summer then felt a larger, warm hand slip into hers, and she looked up as Bucky gestured with his head towards the hallway. She looked around, finding nobody paying them any mind aside from Darcy and Esteban, and then she turned back to Bucky and smiled again before following him to one of the guest bedrooms Darcy had mentioned.

He opened the door for her, and she walked inside and flipped on the light as he made his way in next. He closed the door behind him, and she turned and looked him right in the eye as her smile grew and her cheeks heated up with an instant blush.

The room was quiet, the boom of the music and voices on the other side of the door muffled and sounding a mile away. They were alone for the first time in almost _eighteen_ months, and Summer was suddenly nervous and unsure of what to do.

He looked her up and down, taking in her short deep green dress and the way that it hugged her curves, her heels and the way that they elongated her legs, and finally her hair as it hung in lose waves down her back.

"You look..." he paused and shook his head, smiling crookedly and taking a step closer to her. " _God_ , Summer..."

Those were the last words out of his slightly speechless lips before his hands were cradling her face and he was leaning down, covering her lips in a kiss that had been a _long_ time coming. She lost her breath and could hardly believe that it was real, that their time apart had _really_ come to an end and that he was standing in front of her now, no longer forbidden and completely and truly _available_ to her _._

He kissed her softly at first, slowly and carefully like she was precious and he wanted to savor every last second he spent touching her. Her hands went to his shoulders first, then his neck and finally his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back and opened her mouth to welcome the soft, sweet brush of his tongue against hers.

As the kiss went from slow at first to long, heated, and ever deeper, her fingers twisted tighter in his hair and one of his hands wandered to her waist. The other stayed buried in her hair, and when his fingers curled around her hip and tugged her closer, she let out a soft noise into his mouth and panted when he broke the kiss. He looked into her eyes, tracing his thumb just under her lips and along her cheek, and then he started leading them to the bed.

He sat down on the side of the bed, right on the edge of it, and his eyes never broke from hers as his hands pulled her closer. She lowered herself down on his lap, not caring how the skirt of her dress slid up her thighs, and then they were kissing again and the heat between them intensified. His hands were all over her, and hers were all over him from his hair to his chest to the buttons of his shirt. But it was when she managed to undo the first button that he put on the brakes, breaking the kiss and groaning with their lips barely an inch apart, "Not here, Summer. We can't do this here."

She felt an instant twinge of disappointment, but the breathy, lusty tone of his voice brought a shiver to her spine. It had been so long since she'd been this close to him and heard him speak to her like this.

He looked into her eyes, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I've waited for this for so long... I want to do it right. Take my time."

Another shiver rolled through her, and she nodded before smiling and kissing him again. Her forehead leaned against his, she half-whispered, "Okay. Sorry."

He smiled back and brushed his nose against hers. "Don't be. You're so beautiful."

Her smile grew so wide it nearly hurt her cheeks. "No, you are." When his eyes crinkled with his responding light chuckle, she put her hand to his cheek and said, "I mean it. I really do."

His expression sobering a little, he looked down at her lips and then back to her eyes as he asked, "Do you still love me?"

"I love you _so much_ ," she replied, fingers carding through his hair. "What about you? Still love me, too?"

He briefly closed his eyes, exhaling and laying a soft kiss on her lips before murmuring, "I never stopped, Summer. And I never will."

Her heart soaring on those words, she kissed him again and let herself get lost in him, savoring the way that his arms felt wrapped around her and how safe and _right_ it felt to be there with him. It had always felt right, and now she could kiss him and be with him without having to worry about being his downfall or forever tarnishing his personal and professional reputation.

They were _free_. And all that time later, after all they had been through both together and apart, he still loved her. And _oh_ how she loved him too.

"You should go back," he said as their kisses slowed and they took a break to catch their breath, still clutching one another as she straddled his lap. "Enjoy the party. You earned it."

"I don't care about the party," she replied with a little grin. "Take me home, Bucky."

"Home where?" he asked with that lopsided grin of his that made her want to scream.

"Your place," she clarified. "I wanna take my time too."

His eyes darkened a little, and she blushed just before he kissed her with all of the promise of what was to come later that night.

It took them a little while longer, but eventually they managed to untangle from one another and emerge from the bedroom. Summer bade her friends farewell with a huge smile and they couldn't have been happier for her, giving her back her phone and watching her leave the party discreetly with Bucky. Before she knew it, they were outside, moving through the small maze of cars parked _everywhere_ until they reached the right one.

He opened her door for her and closed it after she slid inside. Then, after he got in on the driver's side, he looked at her and she flashed him a smile that he instantly mirrored.

At long last, after facing and overcoming enough obstacles and complications that would have driven many couples apart for good, their story _finally_ got to truly begin.

* * *

On the way back to his apartment, Bucky and Summer simply talked. They talked about her graduation, her job at the library that she still toiled away at around four days a week, and what she planned on doing now that she finished her degree. They also talked about Bucky's job, the more advanced course that he'd been promoted to nearly two years prior, and how he loved it. The longer that he taught, the more respect that he was earning from his peers and the brighter his professional future became. He'd already accomplished a lot for a man of his still-young age, and considering all that he had overcome to get there, Summer was incredibly proud of him.

She was also completely convinced more than ever that her decision to break it off with him before someone inevitably pieced their relationship together was the right thing to do. And now all of those reasons that had kept them apart were no longer valid in the least.

He held her hand the whole way home, like he needed to be constantly touching her in one form or another now that he had her back. And when they arrived at his building, he kept holding her hand as they made their way up the stairs and into his front door.

His apartment was just like she remembered it. She had spent more than a few nights there at the height of their affair, and being back was as sweet as it was surreal.

After the door was closed and locked, Summer turned to look at Bucky and found him fidgeting a little on his feet, he himself now as suddenly anxious as she had been back at the party.

"Do you, um... do you want a drink or something?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck, and Summer found him absolutely maddening and adorable at the same time.

"No," she shook her head, sauntering up to him and placing her hands on his chest, slowly running them upwards. "Not really."

He grinned and brought his hands to her waist as she leaned up and kissed him, feeling somehow completely at ease now that they were here and truly alone. This, as it turned out, was her comfort zone, maybe even her territory, and she was so happy to be back that she would let nothing get in the way of their first night together in _ages_ being everything they had both hoped it would be.

As it turned out, it was even _better_ than they had imagined.

He took her to his bedroom, where he kissed her neck and slowly undressed her as she glanced at the framed photo of them on his dresser that she had sent him for his last birthday. She knew why it was his favorite one of them. They'd both been in the middle of laughing and were smiling so genuinely and happily in the photo that it made her heart ache even now to see it. They'd been so happy for such a short amount of time, but now they could start making up for it all and making new, better memories.

And as it turned out, he hadn't been kidding about wanting to take his time. He didn't rush a single thing, laying her down in the middle of his bed and gently pulling away the last of her clothes while she got the rest of his off as well. Then he was on top of her, kissing her with a slow but thorough and heated passion, languidly memorizing her body all over again with hands that had been waiting far too long to touch her again. All the while she touched him too, from the scars that ran up and down his left arm and part of his hand to his chest to the muscles on his back, every inch of him that she could reach. He was so sensitive to her every last touch that it made her brain nearly melt, hearing his little groans and soft sounds that would escape his lips at just the smallest brush of her fingers on his skin.

It was incredibly slow and even more sweet, but it stoked the fire between them until it was raging like never before. He kissed her as his fingers slipped down between her legs and touched her, breaking away only to watch her face as she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily against his lips. But he could only hold himself back for so long, his own desires reaching the breaking point as he slid down her body and put his mouth to her with a groan that sent her reeling and blindly reaching out to grab _something_ to hold on to as as utterly blew her mind over and _over_ again. And the whole time, she couldn't even tell which of them enjoyed it more.

It was _perfect_ , all of it transcending their highest expectations of how their reunion would play out. He held her like he never wanted to let go, like he could lose himself in her, and she fell in love with him all over again, even more deeply than she had the first night she'd ever spent in his bed. It was like that first time all over again, only even better.

His voice in her ear, rough and shaky as he told her over and over that he loved her as he moved slowly but perfectly within her, sounded like utter heaven to her as she sunk her nails into his back and rocked her hips in sync with his own. His adoration for her was undeniable, his love as clear as the words coming out of his mouth, and she managed to tell him just how much she loved him back before her gasps became moans and she fell apart. But she wasn't so far gone that she couldn't keep her eyes open and watch greedily when his moment came, when his hand next to her head clenched into a tight fist in the sheets and he moaned so deeply and harshly into her neck that she could _feel_ how very overwhelmed he was.

And then, after it was all over and there was nothing left to do but lie there together in the still, quiet silence that was broken only by the sounds of their breathing and occasional soft kisses to each other's lips, they held each other and reveled in the blissful feeling that came with knowing this was only the start. They didn't have to sneak around the next morning or go back to leading separate lives. This was their chance to start over, this time with a real shot at getting it right.

Summer smiled at him as she peeked up from where her head laid on his chest, her leg tangled between both of his and her hand laying over his heartbeat. He smiled down at her, brushing her hair back with his fingers and then softly touching her face, his eyes full of love and satisfaction.

"You look happy," she noted, unable to wipe the smile from her own face.

"I _am_ happy," he replied softly.

"Me too," she grinned before lifting her head and gently kissing his lips. She then smiled at him again and said, "It seemed like this day would never come for so long. It was so far away. I can't believe it's here now. I can't believe I'm with you right now."

"I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up any minute," he admitted, still smiling.

"You dream about me a lot?" she asked cheekily.

"Maybe," he answered teasingly. "Just not always when I'm asleep."

" _Oh_ ," she chuckled, kissing him again. "So that little student chick never wormed her way into your head after all."

He rolled his eyes, scoffing lightly. "Not even for a second, Summer."

"Good," she said, looking down at her fingertips as they slid along his collarbone and just underneath it. "Because I'd hate to lose you to some other girl who walks into your class one day, who's prettier and younger than me."

"Never gonna happen," he assured her, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "I promise you that."

She believed him. She smiled and kissed him again, once or twice more before laying her head back down on his chest contentedly. "So... what now?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What do you think?"

"Well... we can go on dates whenever we want now. We can do _anything_ we want, _whenever_ we want."

"Yeah... weird, huh," he marveled.

She smiled. "I'm gonna have to tell my brother about you now."

Bucky was silent for one long moment before he muttered, "Well, fuck."

She giggled and looked up at him. "Maybe we can give him the... short version of the story first, so he doesn't kill you."

"Yeah, let's do that," Bucky chuckled. Then he paused and said, "Steve and Nat are dying to know you better. Especially now that you're graduated."

"Oh," Summer replied quietly.

"Darcy's the one who invited me to the party earlier," Bucky said, which Summer had _not_ known prior to that moment. "I wasn't sure if I should go or not, but Steve and Nat, they told me to go."

"Well, I'm glad you came," she smiled at him. "I was worried when you didn't answer my texts."

"I was trying to be romantic and surprise you," he admitted, something adorable in the way that he almost sheepishly said this.

"It worked," she grinned before kissing him again. He smiled against her lips and groaned softly when the kiss lingered just long enough to stir his desire again. It had been a _long_ time, after all, and he'd been waiting far too long for this night to come.

His hand tangling in her hair and tongue softly teasing her own, Summer gave into him and slowly shifted so that she was lying on top of him. One kiss became many, each more hungry and hot than the last, but there was one thing she had to say before they lost themselves one more time.

"I love you," she told him quietly, her eyes relaying to him the depths of her sincerity.

"Love you too, sweetheart," he said sweetly, smiling when she smiled and groaning softly when she bit her lip and then kissed him again, this time with a passion that would not be tempered or satisfied any time soon.

Somewhere in the back of Summer's mind, she wondered just where all of this would lead them. Would this last as she thought it would, standing the test of time and everything else that life would throw at them in the future? Would their love last, growing into a bond that would one day lead to a ring on both of their fingers? Maybe, someday, they'd find themselves in a house just outside of the city, tucked away and private and filled with photos of the life that they would share together. They wouldn't be there alone - laughter would fill the house, both theirs and that of a few kids, maybe a cute little girl with her eyes and his chin, and a handsome boy with her awkward charm and his nose, both of them brilliant and devastatingly loyal. Life wouldn't be perfect, but they'd be happy and content, and one day they'd tell their children the story of how they fell in love when they shouldn't have and yet beat the odds and made it to the other side.

She could see the whole story, from beginning to end, right there in his eyes every time he would look at her with that love and adoration in his eyes. The story hadn't been written yet, and the blank page of their future could hold _anything_ , but she knew what she wanted. And while he hadn't said the words, she was pretty sure that he wanted it too.

And to think that it had all begun utterly and completely out of the blue that fateful day that she had unsuspectingly and innocently walked into his class.


End file.
